


The Perfect Sin

by Ixthalia



Series: The Shaping & Thawing of Ice [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animated GIFs, Birth Control, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Dirty Talk, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Smut, Guilty Pleasures, Heavy Angst, Hotel Sex, Idiots in Love, Incest, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Marathon Sex, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Rape, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Tension, Size Kink, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ixthalia/pseuds/Ixthalia
Summary: They were trapped, two pawns on Hydra's chessboard with no way out.So when their keeper pushes them together, they swallow the questions that are too complicated...too painful, to ask.But when she breaks free and finds him, forcing them both to confront what they were forced to do, those questions return to the surface.*AU, does NOT need to be read for the rest of the series to make sense as it does not take place in that universe. READ THE TAGS!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Shaping & Thawing of Ice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1507298
Comments: 140
Kudos: 314





	1. Warning - Please Read

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. PLEASE!
> 
> CONTAINS: non-con, dub-con, incest and animated gifs! To sum up, this fic is pure smutty filth - tread lightly, dear readers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles with a '*' next to it are to indicate the chapter contains graphic smut and (in most cases) accompanying animated gifs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does not take place in the same universe as 'The Prodigal' and the rest of the series, but is included because it contains the same characters. 
> 
> It is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE and DOES NOT need to be read for the rest of the series to make sense - thank you!

* * *

This is VERY 18+.

Like completely, 100%, irrefutably 18+.

Do not read if anything in the tags could make you squeamish! I’ve made every effort to clearly mark what might be too much for some readers, so **PLEASE** read those tags!

Story contains graphic smut and **INCESTUOUS** relations that are not always explicitly consensual. 

*Please understand that in continuing, you're telling me you acknowledge this.*

This is the filthiest fic I've ever written - I acknowledge it won't be for everyone - so please, **PLEASE** read the tags!

Also, this story if the first I've written that will contain animated gifs. They are 18+ and are essentially short, looping clips that are pornographic in nature.

Completely AU and stand-alone in this series and **DOES NOT** need to be read for the rest to make sense.

I repeat, this is AU and does not fit in with the rest of the series. This means it does **NOT** need to be read in order for the rest ('Origin', 'Prodigal', and fics to come) to make sense.

* * *

I'm sorry to be so repetitive and delay your reading with this warning, but I want to cover my butt since this is - without a doubt \- going to be the most filthy thing I'll likely ever write.

If you don't continue beyond this, its all good - I'm not offended in the least!

If you want to continue - great, thank you for the read and I hope you enjoy!


	2. I: Break*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Komandir's sick games reach a new level of depravity, leaving Irina and the Winter Soldier to deal with the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Translation:**  
>  Dorogaya = ‘darling’  
> Komandir = 'Commander'  
> Soldat = 'Soldier'

The komandir said today was a big day, an important day.

He revealed nothing more, and she knew better than to press as he ordered her to follow him.

They walked down the corridor in silence, with only the sound of his heavy footsteps and the plink-plink of water dripping from the cracks of the ceiling.

Irina eyed the cracks nervously.

She couldn’t recall the last time she had been outside. It had to have been years; but she recalled seeing a lake and wondered if perhaps it was lake water seeping into the bunker.

It was an unsettling thought.

He led her around a corner, into a newer wing that appeared to have sturdier construction.

“Do you know how old you are, my dear?” the komandir asked, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Irina shook her head.

“That’s alright, my dear, you’ve been asleep these last few years, haven’t you?”

She had. It made keeping track of things difficult, when she thought to ponder them at all.

“You’re older than you look because of it,” he continued, “but in the traditional sense you are seventeen years of age.”

She thought on it for a moment, trying to determine if that had something to do with what made this day special.

“Do you know what that means?” he asked, stopping before a locked, guarded gate, “it means you’re old enough to begin a new phase of your training.”

Irina swallowed hard.

She’d been training hard for years. Various weapons, sabotage, stealth, tactical assessments…she’d received a comprehensive and painful education.

It made the prospect of ‘new’ training daunting and confusing.

What more was there to learn?

The guards opened the gate, and the komandir continued.

Irina followed obediently.

Around another bend, the corridor widened to accommodate an expansive cellblock. But what struck her as strange, was that each cell they passed was unoccupied.

Except the last, at the very end of the hall.

She stood beside the komandir as he stopped and pulled a keyring from his belt, glancing up into the cell they faced.

The Winter Soldier looked up from the edge of his cot where he sat.

Irina barely managed to contain the fearful gasp that left her.

He wore black tactical armor that fit him snuggly and had dozens of buckles crisscrossing his chest and thighs. She always thought it looked as though he were bound, tied up. It had no left sleeve, allowing his metal arm to shine in the dim light of the cell.

It always scared her.

She knew how badly the touch of his metal hand could sting…

He had been her instructor for much of her training and had never once held back. She had suffered many bone breaks, concussions, and bruises because of him. But for all the time they’d spent together training, he had never uttered a word.

The komandir stepped into the cell, standing back to allow her to follow.

And for the life of her, Irina didn’t want to.

She wanted to run and hide, seek cover from the silent man who’d so often harmed her.

But she knew she couldn’t. Disobedience only brought more pain and she’d learned early on it was never worth risking.

So she gathered up every last ounce of her courage and did as she was told.

“Soldat,” the komandir spoke, closing the cell door after her, “you know this girl?”

The cold, distant blue eyes she knew so well rose, settling on her.

It was apparently answer enough for the komandir.

“You remember what I told you?”

The soldier nodded.

“Excellent,” the komandir gave a terse nod, urging Irina forward so he could slip behind her, “be sure to leave evidence…”

Irina glanced over her shoulder to see the komandir step out of the cell and calmly lock it.

She turned, shaking, and grasped the bars.

“Komandir –

“Behave for the soldat, my dear,” he ordered, glaring and pointing at her, “you do as he says while you’re in this cell, understood?”

_No._

But she swallowed the bile in her throat and nodded.

He turned to leave, and Irina bit her lip to halt its quivering, slowly turning back to the soldier.

The look he was giving her was bizarre.

She was so confused. Were they to spare? The cell hardly provided enough room for them to grapple…

The soldier calmly stood and approached her. The sound of his heavy boots hitting the uneven stone floor made her shake and she frantically glanced about the room, desperate to find something to defend herself with.

But there was nothing. Other than the cot he’d been sitting on, the soldier’s cell only had a rotten wooden chair in the corner. It was hardly a viable option.

“Please,” she said in a whisper as he drew closer to her, “soldat, I –

He grabbed her arms but didn’t push her hard against the bars as she feared. She slowly opened her eyes, which she had closed instinctually upon feeling his hands on her, only to realize his grip wasn’t as hard as she expected.

What was going on?

Tentatively, she looked up at him.

“S-Soldat?”

He said nothing, but slowly let go of her one arm to grip the hem of her tank top.

To her horror, he attempted to hike it up.

Irina pushed against him, slamming her fist into his chest and trying to put distance between them. As if she had somewhere to go…

Tears sprung to her eyes as he continued, undeterred by her resistance, until her tank top was rolled up under her breasts.

Stomach bared to him, she tensed as his fingers grazed down the curve of her waist.

“P-Please!” she bit out, chest tight in rising fear, “p-please –

The soldier shushed her.

“I’ve been given orders,” he muttered, the sound of his voice startling her.

Now? Now he chose to speak?

Irina searched his eyes for some indication of whatever he could be talking about or if he was trying to manipulate her and found nothing.

Was this a test?

His metal fingers touched her chin and she gasped, expecting them to curl around her neck any minute.

They didn’t.

“I-I don’t understand,” she managed, tears lazily trailing down her cheeks.

The soldier’s gaze followed them down, settling on her lips.

“Have you been with a man before?”

Irina’s blood ran cold.

She thought she had heard him wrong, except his hand at her hip had fallen down to the buttons of her jeans.

_Nononononononono…._

He couldn’t mean –

He flicked open the top button, fingers finding and tugging down the zipper.

“Soldat,” she gasped, pushing at his chest, “soldat, p-please, I –

Again, he shushed her.

“Answer me.”

Two words, an order not a question, and she realized just how powerless she was.

This was going to happen…

Lip trembling, she somehow found her voice.

“N-No.”

He let go of her chin to grab the belt-loops of her jeans and tug them downward. He knelt when they bunched up at her knees to unlace and pull off her boots. Irina winced as he tossed them aside and they hit the floor with a thud.

“S-Soldat –

He tapped her ankles and she reluctantly lifted her feet one at a time to allow him to tug her jeans off. They joined her boots on the floor.

He stood, grasping her hips and slipping his fingers under the waistband of her panties.

“Look at me,” the soldier ordered.

Irina swallowed hard and slowly did as he said.

“The komandir gave me orders,” he explained, voice hushed, “either I fuck you…or he gives you to his personal guard.”

Irina whimpered and looked down, trying to shrink away into nothing.

The soldier sighed and touched her chin, urging her to look back up at him.

“There are six men in his personal guard…”

Irina trembled, slowly raising her arms to cross them over her chest.

“Or me,” he continued, “I…I don’t want them to touch you…”

His fingers hooked back under the waistband of her panties and she whined as he slipped them down. The cold air ran over and between her thighs.

She heard the soldier breathe in a tight hiss as he knelt, face coming close to the light curls that covered her pubis as he returned to his knees.

When the panties reached her ankles, Irina refused to lift her feet and allow him to remove them. She remained rooted in place, shaking and cold, desperately wishing she could wake from the nightmare she found herself in.

What kind of choice was this? Either allow the man who’d hurt her for years between her legs or be tossed to six men like she was nothing?

The soldier stood, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragging her over to his cot.

When the cold metal of the bedframe hit her calves, Irina broke down into tears.

It had been years since she’d last wept in front of the soldier. And while she knew they wouldn’t help her; she couldn’t make herself stop.

“P-Please…”

The soldier tugged her tank top up and over her head, forcing her arms away from her chest as he pulled it from her.

“S-Soldat…please don’t do t-this…”

“Do you want the other men?” he asked, matter-of-factly, after tossing aside her shirt.

Irina vehemently shook her head, folding her arms across her chest.

She’d never been naked in front of a man, let alone _been_ with one. Now, standing before him in the cold of his cell, with only her bra left…

She was terrified.

The soldier guided her to turn around, gently pushing her towards the cot until she couldn’t resist any longer and knelt on its edge.

“P-Please…”

He urged her forward some, pushing her shoulders down.

“N-No…please don’t do this…”

Sniffling, she unfurled her arms from around her chest to grip the thin sheet that covered his bed. Face buried in the musty cot, she tensed upon feeling his flesh fingers at the clasp of her bra.

It opened on his second attempt and the material fell forward. He made no move to slip it from her, thus giving her the thinnest veil of coverage as he ogled her.

“S-Soldat…”

The soldier ran his hands up and down her back, seemingly savoring the feel of her, before settling on her hips.

“P-Please…don’t hurt me…don’t do this…”

Irina was on full display. While her chest had been pushed down, allowing her to shield herself somewhat, her bare ass was raised up in the air. She felt as though she were being presented to him.

“D-Don’t do this!” she stammered, squealing as his metal hand grasped her cheek and parted her, albeit slowly.

She heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper being opened and shook violently, trying to sink down and melt away into the mattress.

He’d unzipped his pants…

_This…this is going to happen…_

She jumped at the feel of his thumb parting her folds.

“No!”

She tried to twist her hips away and to her surprise, he let her.

On her side, she looked up at him as she scrambled to cover her breasts.

Irina looked him up and down. He’d not removed a single piece of his tactical gear, but his fly had been unzipped. She’d never seen a naked, aroused man before and once her gaze settled on his cock; a new fear settled over her.

There was no way, none whatsoever, he wouldn’t hurt her.

“I-I don’t want to do this,” she muttered, curling up to try to conceal as much of her bare skin as she could from him, “please…don’t do this…”

He looked flustered, less distant. It was strange, to see him so…conflicted, confused. It was as if his own actions felt foreign to him.

“I don’t want to…not like this,” he whispered finally.

Not like this?

Unsure how to begin unpacking that, she focused in on trying to sway him.

“Then don’t.”

“Have to…or they will.”

He touched her knee, making to part her legs.

Irina squeezed them closed.

“If you care; help me!” she pleaded, heart racing, “protect me…”

He looked hurt, as though her words had physically struck him upon leaving her lips.

“I am.”

He brushed aside her tears, fingers lingering on her cheeks as he guided her onto her back.

She put up little resistance; but wept and kept her arms crossed over her chest.

The soldier placed one knee on the edge of the thin mattress, grasping her knees and roughly spreading them.

She tried to resist the motion, but he was strong; too strong to truly resist.

Irina squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as cool air hit her.

“No…”

It was weak, desperate, but it was all she could find the strength to voice.

Braced for pain, she was surprised to feel his hands on her shoulders.

She cracked one eye open and whined upon realizing he wanted her bra off.

She tried to twist away from him, but he gripped the straps and pulled.

“No…no…”

He bunched the fabric up in his hands and continued to try to pry it from her, his motions slow but firm.

She choked on a sob, desperate to cling to the tatters of her modesty, the last little shred that offered her some protection…

“Want to see you,” the soldier mumbled, frowning.

Irina gasped as he finally succeeded, tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder.

It joined her other clothes, all scattered about his cell.

He gripped her wrists as she tried to cover herself, slowly guiding her hands back. The second her breasts were exposed to his greedy gaze, he hummed, seemingly in appreciation.

Irina grimaced, closing her eyes.

She knew her breasts were large. Guards often ogled her as she trained and there had been a time where she was going to her handler regularly to get increasingly larger bras.

The soldier muttered something under his breath in Russian she did not catch. She considered opening her eyes, but the decision was made for her as something slick and warm flicked over one of her nipples.

To her horror, she opened her eyes just as the soldier delved back down, capturing her nipple between his lips.

She whined, her head rolling back as a strange sensation washed over her.

His lips were warm, tongue swift and slick against her skin. He worked her nipple to a tight bud, and she gasped as he suckled her.

She couldn’t help but watch him, shaking as he pulled from her nipple only to descend upon the other.

“N-N-No,” she tried to wriggle free of his grasp, “s-soldat…stop…”

He let go over her wrists to grasp and grope her breasts and she moaned.

“S-Stop…”

He roughly nipped her.

“P-Please…enough…”

His lips let her nipple with a wet pop.

She watched him lean back, gripping her knees and spreading them apart. He looked down between them and she blushed.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, gripping under her knees to hoist them back, “relax…”

He shifted and she felt his cock graze her inner thigh.

She tensed, gripping the sheet so tight her knuckles went white.

“We c-can’t,” she managed, chest so tight she could scarcely breathe at all, “I-I can’t…”

He continued, choosing to ignore her garbled pleas.

His cock pressed against her clit, a tiny bundle of nerves she had only just begun to experiment with, and she let out a breathy moan.

“N-No…”

He dragged the head of his cock down, through her folds, to press to her opening.

What little she knew of this…sex…was that she had to be wet in order to take a man without pain. She was hardly wet; the work of his tongue on her nipples lending only a trace of slick to her womanhood.

He was going to hurt her.

“No!” she cried, back arching off the bed.

She propped herself up on one elbow to push at his chest, a final weak attempt to halt what was to come.

Further protests were silenced by the thick, bulbous head of his cock pushing into her, popping past her tight, virginal opening.

The stinging stretch was dizzying.

She gave a tight cry, falling back and hyperventilating as she struggled to grasp something, anything.

“H-H-Hurts.”

It was all she could muster to communicate her discomfort.

But her soldat’s gaze was fixed downward, to where they were joined.

He seemed to not have heard her.

He groaned, pushing her legs back a bit more, before sliding deeper into her.

Irina screamed.

He was too big, too thick, for her underprepared, small body to take.

As each inch sunk slowly into her, stoking up a fiery pain she didn’t know was possible, the groan leaving him deepened.

By the time he had bottomed out inside of her, he was gasping, and she was weeping, her features twisted in pain.

She felt stretched and torn, ripped open under him.

Her body was struggling to accommodate his girth; struggling and failing.

“I-It hurts!” she shrieked, the slightest move of his hips sending a sharp pain deep inside of her, “s-soldat!”

He thrusted once, slow and deep, and she gasped, falling back against the mattress.

“N-No…”

But he continued, thrusts slow but stinging.

He settled into a rough, savoring rhythm that knocked the wind from her. He barely slid out of her with each movement, grinding into her in a way that stimulated her clit.

It pulled a moan from her she hadn’t known was on the tip of her tongue.

“S-Soldat…I…I…”

His paced quickened, his dark, lust-filled gaze lingering on her face before dipping down between them.

_Oh my god…_

Her breasts swayed from the force of each thrust and she weakly covered herself, mortified.

But the Winter Soldier didn’t like that. He slowed his sharp movements, reaching up to grab her wrists. When he had pinned them to either side of her head, he stretched out over her and renewed his thrusts.

Irina wailed, the slight shift in position enough to spark new pain between her legs.

“Y-You’re too big,” she cried through clenched teeth, “I-I-I can’t…I can’t take it!”

She couldn’t take him. Not another thrust, another inch…

His breath against her ear, he whispered to her between panting breaths.

“You are,” he grunted, “you…you’re taking me…”

He slammed into her, moaning as she keened and clenched around his cock.

Irina went lax, submitting to his touch. He sucked and nipped along her neck, dipping down to suckle her breasts as he fucked her.

She couldn’t help the cries that left her. They echoed down the stone hallway and she knew, to her deep shame, that the guards she had passed could hear her.

When the ache finally, mercifully began to ease, he pulled from her and manhandled her so she was on her stomach, ass in the air.

She whined, biting her lip as he roughly got her in position. When he pushed his cock back inside of her, she buried her face into the mattress and shrieked.

The change of position opened her body up to him, allowing him to delve deeper into her with each thrust.

It was a change he seemed to enjoy, if the sharp gasps and painful grip on her hips were any indication. But it was agony for her. Each sharp, desperate thrust of his hips pushed his cock into something deep inside of her. It hurt at first, and she feared he’d break her entirely, but as he rubbed her sides, it eased.

It became…pleasant.

“S-Soldat…”

She weakly eased herself up to her hands, biting her lip hard as she experimented by arching back into his thrusts.

He gave a sharp, surprised cry and tightened his hold on her hips.

“I-I feel weird,” she muttered, shakily meeting each thrust.

“Perfect,” he grunted, slamming into her so hard she fell forward, “you feel perfect…”

Irina moaned into the sheets as he fucked her. Her aches didn’t fade entirely, but something new and perfect had begun to coil tight inside of her.

It coiled even tighter as he pressed his metal hand to her shoulder blade to brace himself and it snapped entirely, hurtling her headfirst into an orgasm when he renewed his thrusts, hard and rough and fast.

He stilled as she cried out, startled by her delight and the spasms of her tight body around his cock. Realization hit him, the faded fragments of his life telling him this – her crying out and soaking him – was good.

Very good.

She went lax and pliant underneath him, spent; and he hurried to finish.

He came a few deep, punishing thrusts later, spilling inside of her as the komandir had ordered.

He hurried to catch his breath, stepping back and off of her as gently as he could muster.

Once he had tucked his cock back inside his trousers, he turned her over and brushed her hair out of her face.

She was panting heavily, breasts rising and falling with each greedy breath. He ran his hands up and down her body, checking her for injuries.

Irina saw him wince upon noticing the bruises on her hips, but paled as he looked between her legs.

“Y-You’re bleeding…”

She made to close her legs and he stopped her.

“I…I hurt you.”

Irina weakly rubbed away her tears and the streaks they’d left down her cheeks.

“Yes,” she said softly, seeing no sense in denying it, “you hurt me.”

He frowned, focus fixed on the smears of blood and cum on her inner thighs.

“But,” she took a steadying breath, “I’d rather you hurt me…like this…then have the komandir’s men hurt me…”

It didn’t seem to make him feel better, and in truth it did little to make her feel better.

She hurt. He had left a deep, pulsing ache between her legs and she was mortified, both of her reaction and of the speed in which her body relented to his touch.

But looking at him now…

She saw remorse and self-loathing in his usually cold eyes.

The man she had feared her entire life…this couldn’t be him, could it?

* * *

A few months later, the komandir walked her back down the very same hallway, passing the same guards and locked gates, till they stood outside the soldier’s cell.

She was nervous, but once she saw the same in the Winter Soldier’s blue eyes, she relaxed some. They had not seen each other since they’d had sex and she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect upon seeing him again.

But this…what she felt now…

It was weird and uncomfortable, but she remembered how good he’d felt towards the end, when her body had grown used to his cock. She remembered how gently he had cleaned her, how his jaw had tensed when the komandir returned and began poking around between her legs.

She’d thought of him often since then, trying to make sense of what she felt and been through.

It left her with more questions than anything else, but she continued to ruminate on it regardless. And in the quiet dark of her own cell each night, she thought of him and wondered if he was awake too.

And now, standing before him again, she felt…

Nervous.

Excited.

Confused.

Eager.

Afraid.

Impatient.

But when the komandir sat on the rotten wood chair in the corner and ordered her to strip, her fears returned to the surface in a rush.

Irina tried not to look to the komandir as she removed her clothes. She took her time unlacing each garment, setting them aside neatly on her boots by the wall. When she had only her panties and ratty bra left, the komandir ordered the soldier to sit on the edge of the cot.

He did as he was told but shot Irina a worried look.

About the only thing she had figured out since that first fateful night, was that the soldier was not as cold and unfeeling as she first imagined. He seemed mortified by his actions after they’d each reached their peak, regarding her with shame as he eyed the blood and cum smeared on her skin.

Yes, he’d forced himself on her, but he had been ordered to and seemed…ashamed about having to comply.

The komandir’s bizarre orders shook her from her thoughts and she looked to him meekly, her confusion and fear plain for him to see.

“I want you to pleasure him with your mouth, my dear,” he clarified, somewhat irritated, “on your knees.”

His tone scared her and she hurried to her soldat with quick, wobbly steps.

She sank to her knees before him, lightly touching his knees as he looked to him in confusion.

His look was lust-filled but, what? Tender? Sympathetic? Embarrassed?

Irina couldn’t figure him out.

He unlaced and unbuttoned his trousers, hissing as he eased his half-hard length from the confines of his pants.

Irina wasn’t sure what to do but didn’t want to anger the komandir. So she gave a quick, experimental lick of her soldat’s length.

He gave a shaky, breathy moan.

Encouraged, she wet her lips and flicked her tongue up his length. By the time she reached the head of his cock, he was hard.

Painfully so, if the tension in his thighs and tight moans he was giving were any indication.

“Enough,” the komandir barked, “ride him.”

She looked over her shoulder to him and was about to voice her confusion, when her soldat reached out and grabbed her under her arms.

The komandir praised him and Irina looked to him in confusion as he sat back on the cot. As he guided her leg over him, she realized what the komandir wanted of them and blushed.

Straddling him, Irina shifted to get comfortable. She felt exposed and wished the komandir would leave but didn’t think she would get so lucky.

Her soldat’s fingers captured her attention and she looked down at him as he pulled aside the crotch of her panties. His cock brushed against her slick folds and she jumped a bit, still unaccustomed to the warmth of him.

“Get on with it,” the komandir snapped, causing Irina to tense.

Her soldat’s cock breached her and she winced, her tense body resisting as she settled on his lap.

She was full, so painfully full.

So much more so then she had been their first time. This new position left every bit of her open for the plundering and she shivered as a mixture of fear and anticipation blanketed her.

Her soldat grasped her hips, encouraging her to rock against him.

Irina gasped, closing her eyes and reaching down to grasp the buckles and clasps of his tac shirt for leverage.

It… _he_ …he felt good.

The stretch was still a bit uncomfortable, but the stinging agony she felt their first time was gone. In its place…well, she wasn’t sure how to describe this sensation.

His hands gripped her waist, sneaking upward toward the band of her bra.

The komandir barked another order and her soldat shot her an apologetic look before tugging down the cups of her bra so her breasts spilled free.

She liked the way his eyes darkened at the sight.

“S-Soldat!” she cried, arching as she quickened her pace.

He grasped her hips, guiding her movements and thrusting upward as they moved together.

“Does he feel good, my dear?” the komandir asked, his focus on them unwavering.

His question shamed her, but she nodded quickly regardless.

Her soldat did feel good.

So, so good.

“Fuck her hard, soldat,” the komandir ordered, “remind her of her place…”

Her soldat reached up, urging her down into his arms. She rested her elbows on either side of his head, so close to him it would take nothing to close the distance in a kiss…

But the punishing movement of his hips knocked the idea of her mind.

She keened, gasping and crying out as he slammed into her.

He licked and kissed her exposed neck and she relaxed into him, content to allow him to use her to his heart’s content.

Somehow, through it all, she was able to find the strength to form words.

“M-More,” she gasped.

The komandir’s brow arched, intrigued by her breathy cry.

“Eager for his cock, aren’t you, my dear girl?”

She buried her head in the crook of her soldat’s neck, nodding as she neared release.

“Eager for your father’s cock?”

W-Wait…

What?

Irina looked up at the komandir, took one look at his smirk and paled.

Terror settled inside of her, terror and utter confusion.

She patted her soldat’s cheek. They needed to stop, needed to figure out what he could mean.

Father?

But…Irina didn’t have anyone…anything.

“S-Soldat,” she moaned wantonly, “s-stop!”

The komandir heard her when her soldat didn’t.

“No. Finish.”

Irina whimpered as his grip on her hips tightened, gasping as he desperately pounded into her, eager for release. She groaned as he sat up suddenly, pushing her up with him.

Her clit rubbed against the short curls at the base of his cock and she collapsed into him, a twitching, simpering mess.

Her orgasm rocked her, the force of it shoving a long cry from her.

Her soldat followed a thrust later.

They crumpled, spent, on the bed; Irina atop him.

The strange comfort of his flesh arm draped over her back was almost enough to make her forget the komandir’s comment.

Almost.

She whimpered as his softening length slipped from her, cringing as the komandir approached.

“Well done, soldat,” he praised, brushing aside the man’s sweaty hair from his face, “I’m so glad you enjoyed your sweet daughter’s cunt…”

Her soldat looked to her, wide eyed with mortification.

The komandir laughed.

* * *

Irina lay curled up in the fetal position on the soldier’s cot, trembling in shock.

Her soldat sat on the edge of the bed near her.

It…it couldn’t be true.

It wouldn’t have felt so good, so perfect if…if…

“He had to be lying,” she whispered, reaching out and lightly touching his back, “soldat –

“I don’t remember a child,” he interrupted, voice tight with emotion, “but…”

If he was right…

Irina shifted to her knees, maneuvering her aching body so she could hug him from behind.

He tensed but made no move to break free of her hold.

“If you hadn’t…taken me that first time…he’d have let his guard,” she muttered into his neck, shaken and overwhelmed, “you spared me that –

“By raping you before they could get ahold of you,” he interjected, tone tight with anger that made her nervous.

“I’d rather it be you then them,” she tightened her hold on him, “I’d…I’d rather you any day.”

He sighed heavily.

“Any night,” she lightly kissed his neck, “any time…I’d choose you.”

“It’s wrong,” he countered coldly, “if he’s telling the truth…what we’ve done is wrong.”

She shrunk against him, considering his words.

“It’s disgusting,” he spat, shoulders shaking as he struggled to remain composed.

Was it?

Of course it was, she thought, sadly.

But they’d been made to. Their first night…the komandir ordered it.

And just now…he’d eagerly encouraged it, ordering them onward.

It was his fault then, that they’d both enjoyed it so much.

But…but what if her soldat refused to continue? What if the komandir grew impatient? Would he threaten to toss her to his guards again? Who would protect her then?

She wept into the crook of his head, breaking down into sobs as her soldat sighed and maneuvered her into his lap.

He held her tight, rubbing her back as she wept.

When she finally gained control of her breathing, she stammered her fears to him.

“What if he gives me to his guards?” she grabbed him, holding tight to the straps of his tac shirt, “soldat…please…don’t let him…protect me…please protect me from him…”

He shushed her, kissing her shoulder and hating himself for how easy it was to do.

For how good she felt in his arms.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder again, “anyone tries to touch you…I’ll rip them apart.”

“P-Promise?” she whispered, pulling back from their embrace enough to look him in the eye.

Something in his chest shook and he nodded.

“Yes,” he kissed her chin, lips lingering, “I promise, dorogaya.”

* * *

Irina wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d been with him - her soldat.

But when the komandir came for her and began leading her down the same corridor, her heart raced in anticipation.

She’d thought of little beyond him since their last time, mulling over and over what the komandir’s words might mean for them if they proved true.

So much of her life had been full of pain, of fear. Training and experiments dominated her days and each night she went to bed with new bruises, new scrapes. But things that scared her before seemed a little less terrifying now. When she trained, he was watching from the sidelines. When they came to take her blood or try a new medication on her, he was there.

Even when he wasn’t.

So she decided, at least for the time being, that it didn’t matter.

He was reprieve in rough seas, and she would cling to him regardless of who they truly were to each other.

Besides, they were already in hell – surely there was nowhere worse they could get sent?

Irina stepped into the cell without hesitation as the komandir held the door open for her. She smiled the second her gaze fell upon her soldat, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

He was sitting on the edge of his cot, elbows on his knees and head hung so his long hair obscured his face. He was breathing heavily and as she stepped closer, she realized his shoulders were shaking.

She saw the komandir take his seat on the wooden chair in the corner but paid him no mind.

She was worried for her soldat.

Irina gently touched his head, guiding him to look up at her and brushing back his hair as she looked at his face. Her heart sunk to see how vacant his blue eyes were and as she tucked his hair behind his ears, she noticed bruises on his temples.

“Oh, soldat,” she muttered, eyes welling, “what have they done to you…”

He didn’t react to the sound of her voice and Irina choked on a sob, dipping down to kiss his forehead.

“It’s me,” she whispered, lips brushing his temples lightly before continuing downward, “your dorogaya…”

She kissed his cheek, closing her eyes and pressing everything she felt for him into his skin.

“Come back to me,” Irina breathed, before kissing down his jawline to his chin.

She’d only just noticed the sweet little dimple in his chin a few weeks ago, when he had stepped from the shadows to comfort her after a particularly grueling treatment. He’d said nothing, but he only seemed able to find his voice when they were together in his cell. Still, his presence soothed her and when he’d crouched down and touched her shoulder, she’d looked up…

And felt safe to look at him freely.

It was a jarring moment.

The look he’d given her had been so soft, so bare. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier then, he’d been…

Well, Irina wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

“Soldat?” her voice cracked and she looked to the komandir over her shoulder, “what happened to him?”

“A particularly grueling session in the chair,” he explained dismissively, “but a deserved one.”

“Why?” she dared ask, “he obeys! He –

“He expressed concern continuing his relations with you,” the komandir snapped, brow furrowed, “I did not share his apprehension.”

Irina bit her lip to halt its quivering, turning back to her soldat before she said something they’d both regret.

“Soldat?”

“Take off your clothes,” the komandir ordered.

Anger, red and hot, boiled inside of her and she shot a lethal look at the komandir before acquiescing. She stayed close to her soldat as she pulled off her shirt and started on the buttons of her jeans.

When she’d kicked off her boots and shirked off her pants, she sat on his knee and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His expression was still far-away and it scared her.

She wished they could be alone, that she could be free to coax him back to himself. Not that she’d know where to start. She’d seen him in the chair many times before and had felt the pain of its shock herself. It was a hard thing to find your way back from on a normal day, but if the bruises on his face were any indication, he’d endured multiple rounds of shocks.

_Please…please don’t be too far gone…_

“S-Soldat,” she muttered, kissing his neck, “tell me how to fix this…”

“Soldat,” the komandir’s harsh voice made her jump, “do as I commanded.”

Her soldat looked up and to the komandir, as if he was just registering his presence now.

Irina touched his cheek and he slowly turned back to her.

Slowly, as if his hands were to heavy to raise, he grasped her arms.

“S-Soldat?”

He pushed her off him, guiding her to his side and holding her tight as she hit the cot.

She watched him closely, confused and nervous as to what the komandir had ordered him to do.

Realization hit her when he tore her bra off in two sharp, rough jerks; tossing the ruined garment aside without a care as to where it landed.

“Soldat!”

He stopped her from covering herself, holding her wrists so tight she knew they’d bruise.

Irina watched him licked his lips before dropping down to latch onto her nipple, his sharp suckle enough to pull a strangled cry from her.

The touch of his hands and lips wasn’t off-putting…it was the far-off look in his blue eyes that urged her to resist.

He wasn’t with her, not truly.

This was autopilot. This wasn’t her soldat.

He released her nipple with a growl, rolling her over and tugging at her panties. She whined but made no move to stop him.

He wasn’t himself and might hurt her if she put up too much of a fight. She feared the pain, yes, but also knew he’d hate himself for it afterwards, when the fog the chair put him in had lifted.

So she settled on her hands and knees at the edge of the cot, biting her lip to stifle her whimper as he pushed a metal digit into her. She was wet and the slick eased the passage of his finger, but it still felt odd.

He added another and scissored his fingers roughly before pulling from her completely. She looked at him over her shoulder, watched as he unlatched his belt and fumbled with his zipper.

Irina licked her lips when he freed his cock and stroked himself.

_Oh god…_

She arched her back, raising her ass and moaning as their gazes met.

She wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could use her how he liked, but feared it would enrage the komandir. She hoped that somehow, despite the fog he was fighting, he could tell that he had it – her consent.

As debauched as it was.

He touched her hip with one hand to steady her, lining his length up to her opening with the other. When the head of his cock breached her, he let go of himself to grab her hips properly and slam into her.

Irina gasped, her eyes rolling back as he immediately began a punishing pace.

_Oh my god…_

She saw stars each time he pulled from her only to thrust roughly back in, striking something deep inside of her that made it hard for her to take a deep breath.

Her orgasm hit fast and her out of nowhere, leaving her a wailing, twitching mess under his strong body.

He fucked her through it, letting go of her hips to wrap his arms around her waist.

Irina could only feel, could only sink back against him to do away with every bit of distance she could.

“S-soldat…please…”

As little aftershocks tickled her oversensitive body, her soldat kissed her shoulder. His lips lingered against her sweat-slicked skin, making her heart soar.

He loosened his hold on her only to bring his hands up to cup her swaying breasts.

She bit her lip, whining lowly as he squeezed her roughly, pausing only to flick his thumbs over her nipples.

“Enough,” the komandir scoffed from his seat, “you were to fuck her, soldat, not savor her.”

Irina whimpered, feeling tension envelope her soldat, and leaned back as best she could to rest her head against his.

She heard him take a shaky breath and tried to steady herself as he loomed over her, pushing her into the thin mattress. Her pert ass still up high, his cock buried deep inside of her…she couldn’t help but clench around him.

He grunted, gripping her arms and pining them to the mattress as he shifted behind her. She couldn’t see what he was doing or if some semblance of awareness had returned to his eyes. He had her so firmly pinned to the mattress, she couldn’t tilt her head to look at him.

He pulled back, slipping his cock from her almost entirely before slamming back in.

The force of it startled her and she gasped, chewing her bottom lip as he made to do it again.

“Excellent,” the komandir praised, “harder, soldat.”

He complied with a strained groan and Irina wailed, eyes open wide as he bottomed out inside of her with each sharp jerk of his hips.

“S-Soldat!” she keened, “p-please!”

“Too much, my dear child?” the komandir asked, tone laced with sick amusement.

It wasn’t.

She wished the komandir was gone, wished she could praise and plead as she so desperately wanted to…

Wished her soldat had a clear mind.

But she didn’t want him to stop.

Her soldat continued a punishing pace, pounding so hard his balls slapped her wetly with each thrust. The sound was depraved, but she loved it. Loved the stretch of her body trying to accommodate him…

Loved the sharp, erratic breaths he was taking as he fucked her.

Irina groaned as he collapsed on top of her, his pace faltering but not stopping.

He was close.

“C-Come,” she managed between gasps, “s-soldat…”

“You heard the girl, soldat,” the komandir quipped, “spill inside of her.”

He bit her shoulder hard enough to surely draw blood and Irina tensed, body clenching even tighter around him.

It was too much for him, and he hissed through clenched teeth as his orgasm shook him.

Irina felt him cum deep inside of her, hot spurts of his seed painting the inside of her.

He fell against her, panting and shaking, as the komandir stood.

“You have her for another five hours, soldat,” he righted his suit, flattening out the wrinkles on his jacket, “make them count.”

Irina only attempted to move when the cell door shut behind him and his footsteps got further away. He was heavy atop her, but she managed to wiggle free enough to prompt him to get up.

She took in a deep, greedy breath as she reached for him.

“S-Soldat –

“’m sorry,” he mumbled, jerking back from her, “’m so sorry…”

She managed to open her heavy eyes to look at him and realized, much to her sorrow, he appeared to be more present.

She shushed him, pulling him down beside her on the cot.

“Don’t be,” she whispered, licking her dry lips, “are you alright?”

She lightly touched his bruised temple and he winced, making no further move to distance himself from her.

He slipped his flesh arm under her, his metal one over her, and pulled her tight against him.

She felt him shake his head.

“Wanna protect you,” he managed, “but keep hurtin’ you…”

“It hurts a bit sometimes,” she admitted, “but not badly. I…I like being with you…like this.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know,” she swallowed hard, hating herself for the tears that sprung to her eyes, “do…do you…”

She couldn’t finish her question, but his lips on her forehead told her he understood.

“I do,” he admitted, his voice the softest whisper, “wish I didn’t…”

Irina understood. His admission hurt, but she understood. Their hell might last forever, but the questions she sat aside earlier couldn’t remain untouched forever.

“Can…can we just lay like this for as long as he leaves us here?” she asked, griping the belt that ran across the chest of his tac shirt, “please?”

He sighed but nodded, and she smiled, curling up tight against him.

Five hours.

It was all they had.

He held her, pulling away only to kiss her neck or caress her body.

He didn’t take her again and she didn’t press him. She was happy to be there, next to him.

Five hours.

If she’d known they would be the last they spent together, Irina would have tried to take him once more, if only to commit to memory how perfect he felt inside of her.

Five hours.

Then he was led away and she was dragged into cryo.

Five hours.

Then everything changed.


	3. II: Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina finds her soldat, and realizes he's further from her than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIND THE TAGS, FOLKS!

Irina sat curled up in her chair, arms wrapped around her legs and empty beer bottle held loosely between her fingers. She was bare foot and wearing simple, comfy leggings and a loose sweater. Her brown hair was still damp from her shower, brushed back and draped over her shoulder.

Across the room her soldat – Bucky – stood laughing with his friends near the pool table.

She’d been at the Avenger’s compound for about a month and it still didn’t feel real.

She’d been pulled from cryo six months ago by Hydra’s techs and upon hearing that the Winter Soldier was gone – having joined a group called the Avenger’s after going rogue – she killed everyone in the room and made a run for it.

It took her longer than she would have liked to track him down. The new world she had stepped into hobbled her, overwhelming her each time she turned around, but she preserved.

For him.

She found him three months into her search, with his new friends at a warehouse in Amsterdam where they’d tracked weapons smugglers. She had been relieved upon seeing that he was unharmed but watched him for some time after, nervous about stepping forward and revealing herself.

There was no way for her to know exactly how much time had passed since she’d entered cryo, but undoubtedly he’d suffered countless sessions in the shock chair…

Irina was terrified he’d forgotten her.

And when she worked up the courage to step from the shadows, her fears were proven correct.

Her soldat – Bucky Barnes – was a different person now. Or, to put it more accurately, he had returned to the man he’d been before…

And while she was overjoyed to find him happy, relax, and himself; surrounded by people who loved and valued him…her heart broke a little bit more with every passing day.

With each passing day…and with each soft, longing look he gave Natasha.

Irina tightened her grip on the empty beer bottle as the woman in questioned stepped out from behind the bar to saunter over to Bucky. She saw his face light up, saw his perfect lips curl into a smile that made her weak and tingly…

And it was for her.

His smile…his lips…

Irina hated how jealous she was.

What right did she have to feel that way anyway?

He’d never truly been hers. What they’d had was fleeting and forced. It had been necessary to survive.

And now…now it wasn’t needed.

She wasn’t needed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Steve’s gaze flicker to her as he passed. He was carrying two beers, his sights set on the friends he was to return to, but he broke from that path to head towards her.

Irina greeted him with a smile as he took a seat next to her.

If someone from her past life had told her Steve Rogers – Captain America himself – would be the first to try and befriend her, she’d have called them mad. But he had, right from the beginning. Which confused her, since it took two days to confirm through bloodwork that she was in fact Bucky’s daughter.

Maybe he’d had a gut feeling she’d been telling the truth?

Irina couldn’t be sure, but she figured there was no need to push.

She had one friend – sort of – and she didn’t want to risk him by asking stupid questions.

“Need a refill?” he asked, smiling as he gestured to her empty bottle.

She knew she should say no. It would be her fifth of the night, and while she couldn’t get drunk (a fact she lamented) she didn’t like how good the bottle felt in her hands.

“No, I’m good thanks,” she nudged him playfully with her elbow, “go back to your friends.”

His smile faded, just a bit, as he regarded the group of them gathered at the pool table.

Sam had just had his ass handed to him by Clint and everyone else was laughing and settling their bets. Bucky stood nearby, his metal hand at the small of Natasha’s back.

“Come with me,” he nudged her back, “we’ll teach you how to play.”

It could be fun, she rationalized, and it would make Steve happy…

Natasha made a show of counting her spoils from their wager, fanning herself with their money as Bucky leaned in to press a kiss to her temple.

_Fuck this…_

“I think I’m gonna head to the roof, get some fresh air,” she decided, setting the empty bottle on the coffee table with everyone else’s, “then see if I can get some sleep.”

She’d confided in him early on that sleep didn’t come easily to her. He’d listened intently, offering suggestions for her to try before recommending she talk to Bucky about her problem. Irina had promised him she would…but had yet to get around to it.

“Hey, Irina,” he lightly touched her hand as she stood, “he’ll get there, you know? Give him some time.”

Learning that he had a grown daughter had come as quite the shock to Bucky, not that she could fault him it. He’d grown into a different man than the one she had known, of course he didn’t remember a thing about her.

Of course he thought she was lying.

He’d avoided her those first few days, until he had the bloodwork in front of him to confirm her story. But he’d been quiet since then too, talking to her only when he absolutely needed to or when the situation warranted it.

She’d started setting the breakfast table with the syrup far away from his usual seat, if only to hear him ask her to pass it down to him.

How sad was that?

Irina shrugged.

“It’s fine,” she tried to sound like she meant it, “I waltzed into his life, expecting…well, I’m not sure what I hoped to find…”

_The man I love…_

“Family?” Steve offered.

Irina nodded.

“He isn’t the man I knew. If he wants nothing to do with me…its not like I’m losing anything, right?”

“Irina –

“If anyone asks, let them know where I am,” she said, squeezing his hand, “no one needs to worry.”

* * *

It was quiet up on the roof, which was to be expected.

It was part of the reason she liked going there.

Only she and the birds frequented it, and the birds were polite enough company.

She flicked open the folded blanket she’d snagged from her room before coming up, arranging it on the rough material that covered the roof so she could be comfortable.

But the second she settled down, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her beer, she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, kid.”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar figure in the doorway of the service stairwell.

“Hey, dad,” she mumbled, sipping her beer and turning back to gaze out over the training grounds.

Bucky sighed, cautiously approaching and hesitating at the edge of her blanket.

“Can I sit?”

She shrugged.

“If ya want to, sure.”

He did, slowly, mindful to keep some distance between them.

It was cruel, Irina thought. They were free from Hydra, free to be as close as she so desperately wanted…and he didn’t know her.

Not like she hoped, not like she knew him.

_So close, yet so far away…_

“Steve said you come up here a lot,” he said finally, his discomfort palpable.

“’m not planning on running, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she muttered, still unable to bring herself to look at him.

“I…didn’t think you would.”

“Take a flying leap off the ledge then?”

She saw him shake his head from the corner of her eye.

“N-No. I…I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

_No._

She wasn’t.

Not even a little bit.

But he didn’t need to know that.

He’d moved on, found a life he seemed to love, and it didn’t include her.

There was no point trying to insert herself into it.

She didn’t fit.

“I’m okay,” she said instead, “just…out of my element downstairs.”

“Took me some getting used to, too,” he said with a nod, “they can be a lot.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “thing is you have memories of things like that from before. Parties, laughter…”

_Love._

“I’ve got nothing, and sometimes it feels like I’ve been thrown in the deep end.”

It wasn’t a lie. She really had no idea how to find her place in the little family they’d formed or if it was possible.

Or if she even wanted to.

Being around to watch him and Natasha day after day…

Well, Hydra had never put her through an experiment as painful as that.

“I…I never thought of that before. I-I’m sorry,” he muttered.

She looked to him, not liking his shaky tone, and noted he looked embarrassed.

_Fuck._

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit,” she said with a heavy sigh, “or make my hell sound worse than yours.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, after some thought, then whispered, “I’m really not good at this…”

“At what?”

He shrugged.

“Trying to be a dad.”

Flustered, he ran his fingers through his hair.

It wasn’t his fault, and as bad as it hurt, Irina couldn’t bring herself to blame him.

It wasn’t his fault Hydra pushed them together, and it wasn’t his fault she fucked up and caught feelings somewhere along the way…

“It’s my fault,” she said finally, “when they woke me up and I saw you weren’t there…I kind of lost it. I lashed out and…and I didn’t even consider if finding you was what was best. I just…kind of started looking.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head as she considered it all, a bit overwhelmed.

“You have this whole life I don’t fit into,” she admitted, feeling a bit lighter for the words leaving her lips, “and I didn’t even consider it. I didn’t stop and think once that maybe leaving you alone would be easier for you.”

Bucky frowned.

“What would you have done?”

_Good question._

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “travelled maybe…avoided Hydra’s thugs as long as I could.”

Her answer seemed to leave him with more questions, and he thought to himself for a moment, allowing silence to hang between them.

“For what it’s worth I am glad you tracked me down,” he said finally.

That caught her off guard.

“R-Really?”

He nodded.

“I might not be much of a father, but I am glad you’re not out there alone. The rest…well, we’ll figure it out, right?”

It was more than she expected, and she smiled, grateful to have at least that. It would still hurt, but it was good to know she wasn’t entirely unwanted at the compound.

“Right.”

“And chances are good I’ll remember something,” Bucky continued, “if I can remember saving Steve’s hide from bullies back in the ‘30s, anything’s possible.”

He meant it to be reassuring, but it terrified her.

What if he remembered and lashed out at her?

What if he hated her? Or himself?

Seeing him with Natasha everyday might drive the knife deeper and deeper into her heart, but she didn’t want to ruin everything for him.

She loved him.

She wanted him happy.

If being around could ruin that…

“Yeah,” she smiled, hopeful it was enough to conceal her fears, “anything is possible.”

* * *

Irina joined Steve, Sam, and Bucky on a mission that took them out west to Nevada. They were following a lead on one of Mikhailov’s top lackies State-side when they decided to spend a night at a dingy roadside motel.

After spending the last twelve hours hitting dead ends on their lead and spending far too much time in the cramped car Steve insisted on to maintain their cover, it was a welcomed relief.

That is, until they found out only two single-bed rooms were available.

It went without saying she was paired with Bucky and as she grabbed her backpack from the car, she tried telling herself it was going to be okay.

Sam and Steve were already headed for their room, with Sam warning him that he’d make him sleep on the floor if he snored.

Bucky went to her side, helping her grab the duffle bag containing their weapons from the trunk.

“You okay with this?” he whispered, “I can bunk in the car.”

“I’m not relegating you to the car,” she said with a huff, “I will kick you if you hog the covers, though.”

_Dodging the issue with humor – sad, but effective._

Their room was about as impressive as she expected. The queen-sized bed had a brass frame and was made with dated, faded sheets and coordinating floral comforter. The mattress looked thin and she could already feel the springs digging into her back.

A single oversized chair was set up in front of the old television, and a ratty old dresser seemed the only storage option.

The swirling, worn Pepto-Bismol pink carpet was the cherry on the sundae that was the room.

The car seemed the better option, though she supposed this at least came with a washroom…which she was afraid to see.

Bucky sat their bags on the chair, opening the duffle bag to check their gear.

“Feel free to snag a shower first,” he said over his shoulder.

Irina might have dismissed it, but she’d spent hours sweating in an old car with no air conditioning in the desert.

So she snagged a fresh tank top, shorts, and panties from her backpack and hurried to the tiny washroom.

She stripped off her sweaty clothes, piling them near the sink and hurrying into the tiny stall. The water was sinfully refreshing, and she just stood there, soaking it in for a bit before finally washing up.

Irina tried not to think about him just beyond the door, or about how agonizing it was going to be with him on the other side of the bed.

It made sense; better she bunk with her dad than one of his two best friends, but she hated that they were in this situation.

After their talk on the compound’s roof, she’d tried to keep her distance. She was planning on bolting the second Mikhailov was dead, leaving Bucky to his life, and that was going to be easier on them both if they kept their distance.

_Best not to get attached…anymore than I am, that is…_

And if he started to remember…

She shook the worry from her mind, confident she’d be gone long before that happened.

She reluctantly stepped from the shower, drying off quickly and getting dressed. She put her bra back on, despite knowing sleeping in it would be uncomfortable. She slipped on her fresh panties and shorts, before reaching for her tank top.

Once it was on, she looked down at herself and frowned.

It was more revealing than she’d like, but they were in the desert and the thought of putting on more layers made her cringe. So she steeled herself, grabbed her dirty clothes, and opened the door.

“All yours,” she said quickly, not meeting his gaze as he looked up from what he was working on.

“Oh, thanks.”

She sat on the bed, quickly slipping her dirty clothes back into her backpack.

As she sat up, she brushed her hair back and over her shoulder and reached for her phone.

“What’s that on your shoulder?”

She looked back to him, brow arched in confusion, until he gestured to the crescent scars on the meat of her shoulder…

The scars left after his bite had healed.

The bite he’d given her in the heat of the moment, when he’d been fucking her hard into the mattress…

_Our last night together…_

Why the hell did he have to notice it now? Of all her scars?

_Fuck…_

She had plenty of scars up and down her arms, legs, and thighs…but this one piqued his curiosity?

“It’s nothing,” she dismissed, moving her hair to better cover it.

“Irina –

“Please let it go,” she pleaded, unable to look at him.

“No, who the fuck bit you?” he demanded, tone a bit angrier than it had been.

She realized he probably thought someone had hurt her, which she supposed was true. But in the moment, when he had been thrusting into her fast and hard as he chased his orgasm, it hadn’t hurt as badly as it should of.

And afterward, when he was gone and her heart was breaking, it was a little reminder of him…of what they’d been…

As stupid and sick as it was…

She shrugged, still praying he’d leave it be.

“Please…it’s not important.”

“Like hell it’s not,” he seethed, “Irina –

“Please –

“No!” he exclaimed, voice surprisingly shaky, “Irina, w-who hurt you?”

She sighed heavily, realizing they would talk themselves in circles before he gave up and dropped it.

“It…was someone I loved.”

“Someone you loved bit you?”

“It was, um, kind of in the heat of the moment,” she admitted, blushing.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and glanced to him knowingly.

Mercifully he got the message.

“O-Oh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “y-you were in love?”

She nodded.

“Still am, I suppose,” she bit the inside of her cheek as she thought of a good lie, “Mikhailov…he…”

Bucky raised his hand to stop her.

“Y-You don’t have to…I-I’m sorry…for pushing.”

Irina nodded.

“It’s just…if someone hurt you like…like that, I…”

She managed a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she reached out and quickly squeezed his hand, letting go just as quick despite not wanting to, “really.”

He nodded, seemingly a bit less tense.

“Well…I guess I’ll hit up the shower…”

She watched him retreat to the washroom, sighing the second he closed the door behind him.

* * *

By the time Bucky stepped out of the shower and dressed, Irina was fast asleep on her side of the bed.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her and debating stepping outside to sleep in the car, but thought better of it. Cautiously, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

His thoughts lingered on the crescent scars on her shoulder and wondered, for the hundredth time since they spoke, how he knew it had been caused by a bite.

They were unique compared to her other scars, yes, but surely a dozen other things could have caused them.

Frustrated, he rubbed his face and turned off the lamp on the night side table, rolling over onto his back.

He tried to keep his focus on the ceiling as he waited for sleep to claim him, but she squirmed by his side and he looked to her.

Light from the parking lot bled through the curtains, illuminating the room and allowing him to glimpse her more clearly. Her shoulders moved as she breathed evenly, her damp hair fanned out on the pillow. She’d not bothered getting under the sheets and, despite the self-loathing it raised in him, he took the opportunity to take in her figure without dwelling too hard on _why_ he felt compelled to.

_She has nice legs…_

Her shapely hips were hard to ignore, the curve of her waist strangely inviting. He could see the clasp and straps of her bra through her tank and stifled a groan at the sick thoughts that entered his mind.

He could just roll over and hug her to his chest…

He could slip his hand under her tank, tug down the cups of her bra and…

_For fucks sake…_

He was sick, that had to be it.

Faulty internal wiring, maybe.

Besides the fact he was with Natasha – a woman he loved and respected – Irina was his daughter. Cho’s tests had proved that a while ago without a shadow of a doubt.

So why did Irina’s curves feel so…familiar?

Why did the thought of pulling her close – as startling as it was – feel right, somewhere deep down…

And why did her bite mark feel familiar?

* * *

They woke early and got dressed in silence, Bucky stepping into the washroom to give her privacy.

When he emerged, Irina had dressed and was double checking their gear.

“Sleep well?” she asked, not looking up from her backpack.

“Yeah, you?”

She nodded, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and offering him a small smirk.

“Steve’s waiting by the car,” she grabbed the duffle bag, “Sam’s grabbing us some coffee then we’ll hit the road.”

He nodded, snatching the duffle bag from her and heading out without glancing back.

Fresh air and getting back to their mission would clear his head, he thought hopefully.

The motel had stale recycled air that was messing with his head.

Of course, that had to be it.

Coupled with a few decades of Hydra fucking with his head, of course.

Yes…that had to be it.

* * *

Something had shifted between them, though Irina couldn’t put her finger on what.

Not that she had time to dwell on it. After leaving the dingy motel, they caught up with their target at a seedy bar and they had to think fast before he was in the wind again.

So with Sam keeping watch outside in their car, Irina entered the bar, knowing Bucky and Steve would be following her in a few minutes apart.

She’d put her hair up in a high ponytail and was wearing jean shorts and a tight tank top. The lighting inside the bar obscured her scars well enough, though based on the looks she was getting, the patrons seemed entirely blind to them.

It had been her suggestion, using herself as bait to lure their target into dropping his guard. They’d all been against it, but since no one had any better ideas, she’d won the argument.

Steve kept to the perimeter, keeping his head down but his focus on her. Bucky sat at the far end of the bar, sipping a beer and looking utterly unapproachable. Across the bar from him was their target – a mousey looking man with shifty eyes who seemed on high alert.

Irina sauntered over to the bar closest to the man, leaning provocatively against the polish oak bar and ordering a beer as her gaze fell to him.

The second her focus fell on him; she knew she had him.

He wasn’t bothering hiding his lingering look up and down her body, licking his lips as he eyed her chest before meeting her gaze.

She batted her eyelashes and the man clumsily stood, intercepting the bartender to pay for her drink.

“Such a gentleman,” she purred, touching his shoulder as she leaned into him, “how can I thank you?”

He pulled her onto his lap, and she chuckled, amused how easy he was making it. She tolerated his hand rubbing up and down her back, then lingering on her hip before dipping down to squeeze her ass.

It took twenty minutes of talking him up to get the opening she wanted, and she gave Steve the signal.

In an instant, he’d stormed across the bar and roughly grabbed her arm, heaving her off the mousey man and shouting at her.

Irina cowered, their target paled and raised his hands, and Steve threatened her before dragging her outside.

The second they stepped outside, Irina handed over the target’s phone and wallet to Steve, laughing as she did.

He smiled, taking them gratefully.

“Sorry if I was too rough back there,” he muttered bashfully.

She shook her head.

“Nah, you were great – did you see the look on his face?”

Bucky grumbled as he passed them, heading back to the car without a word.

She gave Steve a concerned look.

“He’s just pissed and bein’ protective,” he whispered, “don’t let him get to you.”

As they loaded into the car, Sam inquired as to how they’d done.

Steve filled him in, rifling through the man’s phone and wallet as Sam pulled out of the parking lot.

Irina sat behind Steve and as she pulled on a thin sweater to better cover herself, she glanced to Bucky from the corner of her eye.

He looked pissed.

“Dad, are you –

“’m fine,” he muttered, looking out the window, “just tired.”

* * *

They stopped an hour down the highway to swap cars, then drove for another two before stopping at another motel.

Again, they got two rooms and Irina was paired with Bucky.

There was awkward tension in the air as they stepped into their room, which was perhaps only a fraction better than the one they’d had before.

Irina sat her backpack down on the bed, slipped out of her sweater and dug through her bag for her hairbrush.

“Steve said Tony got something from his phone,” she said, hoping to alleviate the tension, “so it was worth it. Hopefully we’ll have something to go on come morning…”

His only response was a grumble, and she huffed, finally finding her hairbrush. She tugged out the hair elastic and roughly brushed her hair, irritated at the silent, sulking soldier.

She’d done well, hadn’t she? Steve and Sam sure seemed to think so, why couldn’t he?

She’d got what they needed after all…

“If you have something to say to me, can you just go on and say it,” she snapped, frustrated by his continued silence.

He shrugged and she resisted the urge to lob her hairbrush at the back of his head.

She cursed under her breath and grabbed a change of clothes, storming into the washroom.

She changed quickly, slipping into the comfy clothes she’d slept in the night prior. But she was still hurting from sleeping in her bra before, so she decided against wearing it a second night. Balling up her clothes, she stepped back out into the bedroom and made to shove her clothes into her backpack without sparing Bucky the slightest glance.

_Moody fucker…_

He kept his back toward her as she settled on the bed, relaxing on her stomach and shoving her arms under her pillows to hug them as she buried her face in them. It was too warm to get under the sheets, so she sunk into the comfort of the bed as she was, eager for a good night’s sleep.

She felt Bucky shift on the bed and fought against turning to look at him.

“’m sorry,” he finally muttered, breaking the tense silence that dominated the room.

Irina huffed and turned to face him.

“Finally decided sulking like a brat was unbecoming of a grown man?” she quipped, too pissed to second guess provoking him.

He’d kicked off his boots and sat back against the headboard, a bit closer to her then she expected him to be.

“Yeah,” he conceded softly, “didn’t handle it well…”

“Think I’d screw it up?”

He shook his head and looked down to her.

“Didn’t like him touching you like that,” Bucky admitted nervously, giving a little shrug.

Irina sighed.

His soft tone and sincerity smothered out the embers of her anger despite her best efforts to resist.

“Neither did I,” she admitted, “but we had to get a lead.”

“Don’t want to get leads that way,” he mumbled, shifting so he was laying on his back beside her, “’m sorry for being an ass, though.”

Irina couldn’t help it, she pushed herself up on her elbows and crept a bit closer to him.

He’d had his eyes closed and jumped a bit when her hip grazed his leg.

Irina blushed but said nothing as he gave her a confused look, burying her face back in her pillow and praying sleep claimed her soon.

* * *

Bucky couldn’t sleep, though it didn’t seem Irina was having any problem.

She’d rolled onto her back, with one arm draped over her stomach and the other cast up beside her head.

Unwanted, disgusting thoughts entered his mind as he looked down at her.

Her tank top had risen up, giving him a generous glimpse of her stomach. The shorts she wore were low on her hips, and the sight of her hips and the smooth expanse of skin between made his mouth water. Her tank top had twisted a bit as she’d rolled over, baring more of her breasts than he knew she’d be comfortable with.

With each rise and fall of her chest, he watched her intently, silently hoping the fabric of her top would work its way down just a little bit more…

He licked his lips and tried to ignore his aching hard-on.

_Fuck, you’re sick…_

Faulty wiring…it had to be…

Bucky eyed the loose strap of her tank top and before his mind could catch up and urge caution, his hand moved. As his fingers slipped under the strap, he looked to her, making sure she was still fast asleep.

After a few tense breaths with no reaction from the sleeping woman, he slowly eased the strap down over her shoulder.

Once it was down as far as he dared guide it, he slipped his finger along the neckline of her tank, guiding the material down.

_F-Fuck…_

He let go of the material as it eased over the swell of her breast, baring it entirely to him. He wanted desperately to graze his thumb over her nipple, to coax it to a tight little bud and lean over her and…

_Nononononononono…_

He eased himself up and out of bed as quickly and quietly as he could so as not to wake her, hurrying to the washroom the second his feet hit the ground. He closed and locked the door, turning on the shower to give himself some cover as he clamoured to tug down his pants.

The second they were pooled at his ankles, he stroked himself, leaning his head back and biting his lip to stifle his moan.

Unable to stop himself, his thoughts drifted to her…

To how her lips would feel around his length…

_F-Fuck me…_

To how perfect her hand would feel on him…

_Y-Yes…_

Would she let him slip inside of her?

He groaned, picking up his pace.

In his lust addled mind, she would, and he gasped at the thought.

She’d be so fucking tight…

_F-Fuck…yes…_

He came hard, groaned through gritted teeth as he made a mess of his clothes.

As he gasped for breath, he looked down to the cum on his hand and his softening cock and felt something beyond relief and the lingering thrums of pleasure…

He felt shame.

Eyes watery, he desperately peeled off his clothes and hurried into the shower.

He turned the dial as hot as he could handle and stood under the stream, waiting for the water to wash him clean.

* * *

Irina sat cross legged on the bed, her focus on the closed washroom door.

She hadn’t corrected her shirt, leaving her breast exposed as she tried to wrap her head around what had just happened.

Clearly he thought she had been sleeping but that wasn’t what bothered her…

He’d pulled down her tank top…

Did…did that mean…maybe…that he…

She could still hear the strangled moans he’d made in her mind as the shower ran.

He’d hurried to the safety of the washroom to touch himself…

If she hadn’t been left so baffled by what just happened, she might have tried to join him.

But the little voice in the back of her head reminded her he was a different man now. He didn’t want her; he was with Natasha.

Whatever had just happened…it was a fluke, an anomaly.

As wrong as the love she felt for him.

She was going to leave so he could live his life.

She was going to leave before…before he…

She brushed aside her tears and adjusted her top, rolling over and curling up into a ball on her side.

_Before he remembered…_

Irina knew she was too late.

Something had started to click in his mind, had started to draw together the foggy fragments of their time together from deep in the recesses of his memory…

Either that, or what had just happened was…what? Muscle memory? Something new he did on a whim?

No.

He was remembering.

Which meant Irina had to leave.

The realization saddened her more than she expected, adding to the pain of her internal conflict.

She wanted him to stay ignorant to what happened, but she also wanted him with every fiber of her being.

The shower turned off and she curled tighter in on herself.

Wanting him was wrong. It was selfish and immoral. She needed to leave, to find a quiet corner of the world far from him…

Maybe with time and space being without him would get easier.

The washroom door opened, and she looked up in time to see him step out, clad in nothing but a towel wrapped securely around his waist.

She blushed and buried her face in the comforter.

Each time they’d been together, he’d only slipped his pants down enough to free his cock. She’d always wondered though…

How soft his skin was…

How good his toned stomach would feel under her fingertips…

_Don’t go there…_

Bucky, unsurprisingly, caught the movement and stopped in his tracks, gripping the towel tight.

“I…um…thought I’d better shower,” he mumbled, brushing back his damp hair with his free hand.

“’s okay,” she answered in a whisper.

He awkwardly grabbed his bag before retreating back into the washroom to dress.

Irina let out a shaky breath.

She had to leave, and it had to be sooner than she expected. If she played her cards right, used everything Hydra had taught her, she could track down and kill Mikhailov herself before disappearing…

Bucky had found a life he loved, had friends who’d become family, and had a beautiful, strong woman Irina respected by his side…

He didn’t need her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not decided if this little AU fic will have a happy ending or not - let me know your thoughts!


	4. III: Erupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky remembers, and it all comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *climbs to the top of a mountain to shout it loud for all to hear*  
> 'READ THE TAGS!'
> 
> *Side note, I'm pretty proud of and worked really hard on the dialogue in this chapter, I hope it gives you all the feels!

Something had irrevocably shifted between them.

Irina thought it would get better once they got back from Nevada, but it didn’t.

If anything it got worse.

He pulled away, avoiding her as though she were the plague. When he passed her in the hall, he made a point not to look at her. The first few times Irina tried. She’d give a small wave, smile, maybe say ‘hi’, but after a week of getting nothing from him, she stopped trying.

She tried not to care, she was leaving after all, but it hurt regardless.

But then, just over a week post-Nevada, Bucky gave the whole compound reason to worry.

His nightmares seemed to have returned from nowhere. Each night he awoke screaming, jarring even the heaviest of sleepers awake. Steve was the only one who seemed able to calm him down from those fits. He didn’t open up to anyone about what had him so scared though – not Steve, and not Natasha.

Again, Irina tried not to care.

By then, she had much of what she needed prepared – provisions, ammunition, weapons, cash…

All stashed away securely after she had manipulated the security measures protecting them so their absence wouldn’t be noted. She was just waiting on her contact to get her the necessary documents she’d need to flee the country, and then she’d be gone.

Six days, she just had to make it six days then she could bolt.

Bucky’s nightmares would subside. He’d go back to his life, back to his normal day-to-day with Natasha by his side…

Hey, maybe, given time, he’d forget about her entirely…

_A girl can hope…_

Just days before she was due to leave, a knock at her door stirred her from the pleasant nap she was taking.

She rolled off her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she headed for the door.

She figured it was Steve or Wanda, so she didn’t bother tugging on a sweater. She wasn’t dressed indecently, just comfortably. The pajama shorts she wore were loose but the tank she’d chosen was tight. It had one of those built in bras that were supposed to provide support – to which she called bullshit – but she was covered, nothing was hanging out. And besides, it was just Steve or Wanda…

Except that it wasn’t.

“Oh…um…hi Bucky,” she mumbled, adjusting the strap of her tank top and trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt, “what’s up?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked down, his gaze settling on the space between them. His hair fell forward some and she got the feeling he was hoping to hide behind it some.

She couldn’t help but notice just how tired he looked. There were the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes and he seemed paler somehow. In truth, the closer she looked, the more he seemed much like he had before…when they were both with Hydra…

Solemn…stern…and sad…

It was unsettling.

_Stop caring!_

Irina noticed a book in his hand and remembered that Natasha had recommended one to her the previous night.

“Is…is that Natasha’s book?” Irina asked, tentatively reaching out to take it.

He nodded, meeting her halfway and sighing heavily as she took it from him.

She eyed him curiously before turning the book over to read its back.

“Are you going to start it tonight?” Bucky asked, his voice a strained whisper.

Irina looked up, and something in his eyes captured her gaze.

“Um…probably.”

He gave a terse nod and rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced down the hall.

_What the hell –_

“You should,” he finally muttered, pursing his lips, “she said it was good…”

“O-Okay…thanks…”

He turned on his heel and hurried away.

Confused more than ever, Irina slowly shut her door and turned the book over in her hands as she walked back to her bed.

She really didn’t feel like reading but there was something in his eyes when he told her she should that piqued her curiosity.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she flipped through the book.

As she tried to think what had prompted such a bizarre encounter, she reached the midway part of the book and a piece of folded paper fell out.

Irina watched it land on the floor between her feet and sat the book aside to cautiously to pick it up.

It was a simple, nondescript slip of paper. Whether it originated from a notebook or was cut from a larger piece, she couldn’t tell. But it was folded tightly, and she could faintly see the lightest of writing through it.

Slowly, she unfolded it, though the pesky voice in the back of her head that urged caution screamed at her to drop it and run.

To hell with the documents she was waiting on, she had enough to get started. It would be a frustrating hassle, but she could run and find another forger on the road.

But as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. The longer she lingered in the States, the greater the chance Steve and the others would catch up to her. And this wasn’t something she’d get a second chance at…

No, she needed to wait, needed the documents in hand so she could escape across the ocean without delay. Once she reached Europe she could get lost in the crowd, but until then…

Until then, Irina needed to play it smart.

Note unfolded, she realized a business card for a cheap motel had been tucked inside. When she lifted it, she revealed the light writing she’d glimpsed before.

**_8:30 tomorrow night, room 504. We need to talk._ **

Irina’s heart plummeted into her stomach, sending bile rising in her throat that she only just managed to swallow.

_Fuck…_

She hurried to her washroom, note clutched tightly in her hand as her heart raced. She softly shut the door and sat the business card on the vanity as she began meticulously tearing the note into small pieces. When she was satisfied they were small enough, she flushed them down the toilet.

As the toilet’s tank refilled, Irina grasped the vanity and took deep, steadying breaths as she looked down at the business card.

He knew.

Maybe he didn’t know everything, but he knew enough to want to speak to her in private, away from the compound.

_Oh my god…_

He knew.

It explained his distance, his sudden and violent nightmares…

Running prematurely had already been dismissed as an option. That left just not going. Irina could just go to bed early tomorrow night, not meet up with him and hope he let it die.

After all, what was he going to do? Bring it up at the breakfast table the following morning?

No.

At worst, he’d shoot her a strange glare.

_I-I can live with that._

She’d be gone not long after anyway, so he could glare at her all he wanted.

She didn’t plan on being around to face the consequences…

But a dangerous third option lay right before her, so close and tempting it was impossible to ignore.

She could go, meet him at the hotel…see what it was he had to say…

_But then what?_

Endure hearing his rejection, his disgust?

The thought of it alone scared her but as it crossed her mind, a quiet voice in the far reaches of her mind spoke of another possibility.

One she hadn’t the heart to truly consider until now.

_What…what if he wants me?_

She though back to what happened in Nevada, to the featherlight feeling of his fingers trailing along the strap of her tank top before pulling it down….

No matter how she looked at it, she was only able to explain that one way.

He wanted her.

Somewhere deep down, under the fog his torture induced, he remembered wanting her.

She picked up the business card. It should go down the toilet with the note, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tear it up.

This was it; this meeting was her chance to recapture what they’d had…

To show him she was the piece he was missing.

Was it worth risking a broken heart for?

Was he?

* * *

Irina thanked the bus driver before stepping off onto the crumbly sidewalk. When it pulled off, she looked around to take in her surroundings and saw the motel’s neon sign a few blocks ahead.

She took a deep breath to attempt to calm her racing heart.

She hadn’t seen much of Bucky during the day, though she suspected it was intentional on his part. Almost everyone had left on various assignments, Natasha included, and he had spent the bulk of the day in the gym.

In truth, she hadn’t known for sure that she was going to accept his cryptic invitation until the last minute. She debated it all day, running through her options as though it were a mission.

But she supposed it was.

Leaving the compound involved a bit of sabotage on her part, as well as blackmailing a guard and bribing an agent. She rationalized it to herself as she executed each step, reminding herself repeatedly that it was for him.

For the selfish chance she so desperately hoped to claim.

She pulled up the hood of her jacket as a light rain began, hurrying across the street after ensuring the coast was clear, hope spurring her onward.

A bell chimed as she opened the door to the front office and a polite man greeted her. Irina didn’t pull back her hood, mindful that the was most certainly security cameras on her.

He didn’t ask any questions and she said as little as possible, thanking him with a terse nod as he directed her towards the elevator.

Her heart was thrumming so quick and so hard she wondered if the man at the front desk could hear it.

Irina opted to take the stairs upon seeing the rough state the elevator was in, ascending the stairs slowly so as to give herself some extra time to calm her nerves.

But the fifth floor came too soon, and before she knew it, she was standing outside of the room he had indicated.

_What the fuck am I doing here?_

As the question reared its ugly head, Irina’s hands felt heavy.

_He doesn’t want me. It’s wrong to want me. H-Hydra made us…it was them…it was him…Mikhailov…_

She trembled.

_It’s wrong, sick. Even if it wasn’t he…he has Natasha…_

But as her mind short circuited, her body acted of its own accord and before she could correct herself, she was knocking.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck…_

The door opened before she could find the strength to turn and run.

Inwardly, she cursed herself for being so weak, so selfish.

But the second his eyes met hers, the trembling slowed to a stop.

“H-Hi,” she managed in a whisper.

Bucky said nothing but stepped back and held the door open for her, a silent invitation to step inside.

Irina did, jumping a bit at the sound of the door closing behind her and the lock flicking closed.

“Can I take your jacket?”

She looked at him quickly over her shoulder, nodding as she slowly lowered her hood and unbuttoned the snaps down the front of her light jacket. She handed it to him meekly, wrapping her arms around herself and stepping further into the room to take it in.

Aside from its lack of brass, it was much like the room they’d stayed in in Nevada. The carpet was well worn, the wallpaper curling at the seams…

“Find the place okay?”

She nodded, cautiously stealing a glance his way.

His back was towards her as he hung her jacket up on a hook behind the door.

She tried not to notice the way his Henley clung to him, highlighting his toned back and slim hips.

“Y-Yes.”

He turned and she averted her gaze.

But he said nothing and when she couldn’t bare the silence any longer, she lifted her gaze from the carpet to him.

He was frantically running his fingers through his hair, biting his lip so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if he had drawn blood.

“You…wanted to talk?” she offered.

But he didn’t take it.

Instead, he merely looked at her, blue eyes reflecting the turmoil he was fighting inside.

Irina nearly doubled over; the guilt hit her so hard.

Still, she tried again.

“You’ve…been acting strange this week,” she let out a shaky breath, trying to exhale her anxiety, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said too quickly, too sharply to be sincere.

She gave him a sympathetic look and he sighed.

“No…I don’t know,” he walked past her, turning and sitting on the edge of the bed, “fuck I’m a mess…”

He wasn’t, and she wanted to tell him as much, but she knew he wasn’t in the headspace to hear it.

So she saved her breath and took a few tentative steps towards him, pulling up a stained chair from the small table in the corner to sit in front of him.

“Is it your nightmares?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, his elbows on his knees and his gaze on the floor between them.

“They were gone,” he confessed, voice strained, “they were gone, and I was…I was myself and then…”

He looked up, wringing his hands.

“Then?” she prompted, the tension near suffocating.

He shrugged.

“They came back. After Nevada…out of fucking nowhere,” his jaw clenched, “I guess…I’m looking for some insight. I dunno…”

His gaze turned to her and Irina’s breath caught in her chest.

She moved quickly to play it off.

“I’ll clear up what I can for you,” she said sincerely, “though we weren’t always together. And you didn’t exactly open up to me back then…”

_Or now…_

It hung unspoken between them, but she knew he felt it too.

He nodded quickly.

“Do…do you know who your mother is?”

“No…I’m sorry,” she said softly, “Mikhailov said nothing and you never spoke of her. You didn’t talk to me much, if I’m honest…”

“I didn’t?”

“No…I didn’t know you were my dad until right before I last saw you though, right before…before they put me in cryo…”

“I hurt you,” he breathed, eyeing her closely, “they…made me hurt you…”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she said simply.

She saw tears well in his eyes and felt tears of her own sting her eyes despite her best efforts to stave them off.

“Were…were you afraid of me?”

“For a long time, yes,” she admitted heavily, “you regularly kicked my ass in training. I…I was afraid of your arm…”

She saw him tense.

“My…arm…”

She reluctantly nodded.

“You never spoke when we trained. It…your arm was cold. I remember it…when you hit me…”

Bucky hung his head, overcome with shame.

_No._

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Regardless of what happened between them, she refused to allow him to wallow in self-hatred.

She saw what they did to try to make him into a weapon, to try to warp his good heart into something foul. She didn’t fault him for following orders when, each time he faltered, he was dragged off to the chair.

She’d felt the sting of the chair herself a time or two and couldn’t imagine enduring it for decades. That he retained enough of himself to start anew was a testament to how strong he was.

She scooted her chair closer and slowly reached out so as not to startle him, lightly clasping her hand over his metal one.

He looked to her hand on his and then slowly to her, flabbergasted.

“I know what they did to manipulate you into hurting me…into hurting others,” she said gently, “if I hated you, if I was afraid of you, I wouldn’t have sought you out after waking up. I don’t hate you, and I’m not afraid of you.”

He gave her a soft look, but it was fleeting.

“But…what I’ve been remembering…”

Irina’s heart clenched tight.

“What are you remembering?”

He blushed and wrung his fingers nervously as he thought.

“Bucky?”

“A woman’s curves,” he admitted in a rush, shame and embarrassment on his features, “being given orders to…to…”

He choked on a sob, rubbing his face to hide the few tears that had slipped through his defenses.

“It can’t be real,” he mumbled into his hands, “it can’t…”

Irina bit her lip, truly torn as to what to say.

“I…I think I hurt someone, Irina…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, but she knew where he was going.

And her heart ached so badly she wanted to turn and run from the room.

She was selfish. Selfish and sick and horrible. She never considered that he’d be this distraught, but then, why wouldn’t he? He was a good man forced to do awful things. Their first time…well, she’d been shaking with fear.

She hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t been ready for it. It hurt in the moment, and she’d been tender for days afterwards…

But she saw his guilt then, saw the conflict and self-hatred it raised in him. She knew, as perverse as it was, that it was better that he’d taken her. If the komandir had held to his threat and let his men have her…

She swallowed hard.

She’d found comfort in him after that, comfort and shelter.

He wasn’t the mindless monster she’d imagined him to be. He was trapped, just as she was.

And who was she now, to remind him of what he did while shackled?

She sighed; gaze fixed on the floor.

“Bucky –

“Look at me,” he snapped, tone firm, “Irina…look at me.”

She slowly did as he said.

But the second her gaze found his, realization smacked her hard in the chest.

The look in his eyes…

“Look at me, and tell me the truth,” Bucky breathed, “who…who bit you?”

The air was sucked from her chest in an instant.

“W-What?”

He sniffled, nodding to her shoulder and the telling scar her tee shirt concealed.

“Who bit your shoulder?”

She was shaking, standing at the precipice of the moment she both wanted and feared with every fiber of her being…and she wanted to run from it.

“Please…don’t ask me t-that,” she stammered instead, not trusting her legs to bear her weight should she attempt to stand.

He grabbed her hand and she bit her lip, desperate to keep the truth unspoken.

But he wouldn’t have it.

“What was his name?” he pressed.

“Please –

“What was his name, Irina,” Bucky snapped, mindful of his volume, “tell me.”

She vehemently shook her head.

His lips parted to demand it again, and she snapped, pushing back the chair quickly.

All thoughts of telling him the truth escaped her mind. All that mattered was getting away from him.

She tried to steady herself and swat away his hands aside as he tried to stop her, only to tumble backward.

She’d have fallen if he hadn’t grasped her wrist and jerked her forward.

“Irina –

Blinded by tears, she shook her head and tried to jerk herself free. He had her by the wrists and was so close she could feel the warmth of his chest, smell his body wash and light cologne…

_Oh fuck…_

“Irina!”

He let go of one of her hands to grab her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“What was his name?”

His touch wasn’t painful, but it was firm.

She could hardly see him through her tears, but she knew, in that instant, with his hand on her chin that she couldn’t back away.

Her selfish desires had brought her to this place and answering seemed the only way to escape it.

“I…I didn’t know his name…at first,” she breathed, chin trembling, “I…I just called him ‘soldat’.”

A pained, shaky cry left him, and he abruptly let go of her, stepping away from her to pace the room.

Irina quickly rubbed away her tears to better see him.

His hands were on his hips, gaze pointed upward as he quietly cried.

“Bucky –

“Tell me,” he snapped, turning to her, “tell me…h-how…why…”

“Mikhailov ordered you to,” Irina breathed, taking a small step closer to him, “it was either you or his personal guard of six men.”

A sharp gasp left him, and he cursed under his breath.

“Irina,” he swallowed hard, “I raped you.”

She took another step closer.

“Buck –

“I raped my daughter,” he said, more to himself than her.

Desperate, she found her strength and made to close the distance between them.

“We didn’t know!” she cried, “I didn’t know! I was never told – neither were you!”

He snorted, shaking his head.

“It’s on him! Mikhailov didn’t tell us the first time –

“There was a second?” he demanded, turning on his heel to regard her in shock.

She nodded and he paled.

Her heart broke as he slowly sat back on the edge of the bed, no doubt a millisecond before his knees gave out.

“Bucky…please…”

She was halfway to him when he spoke.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he mumbled, roughly wiping away his tears as he pointedly kept his gaze from her.

Irina sat down beside him and grabbed his metal hand before he could make his escape.

Baffled, he looked to her with wide eyes.

“I need you to listen,” she said gently, a sad but sincere smile on her lips, “can you do that? Let me explain?”

Her words jerked him from whatever trance he was in and he managed a terse nod.

“Thank you,” she took a deep breath, “I was afraid…that first time. I didn’t understand…didn’t know. You started to undress me and…I was scared. I…I didn’t know much about sex except…except I needed to be wet…”

He grimaced and she rubbed the back of his metal hand.

“Please…”

He bit his lip and she took his silence as consent.

“I wasn’t…that first time, and it hurt. A lot. But you were disgusted with yourself after, remorseful. I don’t think you wanted to hurt me or overpower me. I think you wanted to spare me…spare me from his men.”

She licked her dry lips.

“And I was glad it was you and not them,” she admitted, “Mikhailov…he told us who we were to each other during our second time.”

She paused to collect herself and he looked to her from the corner of his eye.

“During?”

“Yeah, he…he watched us the second time,” she said with a nod, “after…you said you’d protect me. The…the last time we were…together, I think he’d put you through too many rounds in the shock chair…you were distant. That was…the time you bit me.”

Chin quivering, he looked to her, his heart clearly torn open.

Ever so slowly, Irina brought her hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone as she regarded him softly.

He winced at her touch but didn’t pull away.

There was no point in concealing it any longer, not with everything else out in the open…

“I didn’t kill you because…because I’m in love with you…”

His features twisted immediately in confusion and, dare she say it, disgust, and the tiny pieces of her heart were ground down into dust.

“What…the fuck…”

He swatted her hand aside and stood, glaring down at her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Irina choked on a sob.

“Please…I know it’s –

“Disgusting,” he spit, shaking, “its fucking disgusting, Irina!”

She flinched at his words as though they were blows.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you!” she admitted, “I wasn’t! You have a life, a –

He raised his hands to silence her and her voice trailed off.

“That aside,” he began, his voice hushed but sharp, cold, “I’m your father!”

“I know! I –

“It’s sick,” he seethed, “it’s wrong!”

Irina hung her head.

“P-Please –

“No,” Bucky snapped, pointing at her accusingly, “stay the fuck away from me from here on out, okay? Do you hear me?”

He may as well have stabbed her.

It would have hurt less.

“Please…”

It was desperate and quiet, barely more than a whisper, but it was all she could muster in the moment in the face of his anger.

“You’re fucking sick,” he breathed, aghast.

It was the last straw and she looked to him, broken and hurt and…and…

It didn’t matter now. She’d lost him.

But how dare he blame it all on her? How dare he think he could get away without owning his part?

“You do realize,” she managed, anger emboldening her, “you do know…that I have feelings, yes?”

Bucky pursed his lips but kept his angry stance.

Irina glared at him.

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” she hissed, “I didn’t trip and fall on your cock!”

“Irina, stop,” he warned, voice low and dark.

She refused to bend to it.

She stood, determined.

“I didn’t ask for this…this feeling!” she wept, “I didn’t ask to be in love with you!”

“Stop,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No!” she countered, “don’t you dare act like this was all on me; like I’m the evil one who seduced you!”

His glare was lethal.

“You fucked me.”

Fiery.

“You spilled in me.”

He shook violently as he stared her down.

She stepped even closer to him, so close she had to look up to meet his gaze.

“You took my virginity –

“Stop.”

His voice was sharp, and though it cut her off, she refused to look away.

_You aren’t escaping this…not when I can’t…_

He practically loomed over her.

“Even if it wasn’t disgusting,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t want you.”

Irina swallowed hard and she saw a flicker of awareness in his eyes.

He’d seen the weak link in her chainmail…

And she kicked herself for faltering the inch to reveal it.

“I don’t want you,” he repeated, “I do not want you, Irina.”

He punctuated each word to drive it home.

And it hurt.

She knew she’d break down and sob the second he was gone.

But now, now she wasn’t going to let him shame her for feeling something she knew he felt too.

So she pulled her ace from her sleeve.

“If that’s true –

“It is.”

“If it’s true,” she hissed, “why did you pull my shirt down in Nevada?”

“Y-You –

“Were awake, yeah,” she snapped, “so answer the question…why did you pull my shirt down?”

He took a small step back from her and she saw the anger drain from him in that instant. Deep, all-encompassing shame and embarrassment took its place.

_Good…take your share!_

“You don’t get to hurt me like this and throw things I can’t control back in my face, when you want me just as bad as I want you,” she snapped breathlessly, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

His gaze, softer now, took in the sight of her as though he was just realizing how hurt she was.

She knew she probably looked like hell, but she didn’t care. His anger had been sidelined; he needed to see how badly she was hurting.

“I wasn’t going to tell you! You invited me here. You. You pressed me for this. How is it my fault you don’t like what you hear?”

There was a long, tense silence between them, and Irina tried to collect herself. She rubbed away the tears from her warm cheeks and took a few deep breaths before looking to him again.

There, it was done.

It was out, never to be taken back…

As painful as it was, there was something freeing in it.

“I know I can’t have you. I never did, Bucky,” she muttered, tears all but spent, “I had a small piece, years ago. But even then…you never kissed me…you never even took off your clothes.”

A short, sad chuckle left her.

“Just…forget about it,” she shook her head, “just…go…leave.”

He didn’t and she gritted her teeth, furious.

She stormed him, pushing him as hard as she could, trying to ignore the feeling of his hard abs under her fingers.

She steeled her resolve and tried again.

“Fucking go!” she growled, “you’ve said your piece! You’ve broken my heart! What more do you want? Go!”

He took a shaky step back, taking a last, strangely intense look at her before turning and making for the door.

She watched him grab his coat from the back of a chair, toss it over his shoulder, unlock the door, and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the next chapter. If I were to describe it simply, I would simply say 'sex marathon with an angst overload at the end' :) hope that's okay!
> 
> Oh and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be doing two endings, one sad and one happy - again, hope that's okay!


	5. IV: Burn*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *returns to the top of the mountain to yell* MIND THE TAGS! THEY ARE THERE FOR A REASON!
> 
> ***This chapter contains mature, explicit animated gifs.***
> 
> Wrote this at the same time as the previous chapter and split it in two for readability.  
> Thank you all for the encouraging, kind comments and kudos :) you're all the very best!

The silence that followed was deafening.

When it stretched beyond three erratic beats of her heart, she came undone.

She collapsed back onto the bed, buried her face in the pillow and wept.

It was done.

He was gone.

And Irina didn’t know what to do.

Nothing else seemed to matter.

Not Mikhailov, not the others at the compound…

She just wanted to run until her legs gave out, until she was far away from Bucky and could breathe without it hurting.

_He was never mine._

_He was never mine._

Before the thought could cross her mind again, the sound of the door abruptly opening startled her. She hiccupped and looked up, expecting to see an overly concerned, nosy neighbor or employee.

Instead, she saw Bucky.

Confused, she rubbed away her tears and sat up in the bed.

“Bucky? W-What?”

She watched him lock the door and toss his jacket back on the chair.

“Bucky?”

He said nothing but met and held her gaze as he cautiously approached the bed.

If he’d thought of more hurtful things to say half-way down the hall, good for him, but she wasn’t ready to be yelled at again.

She’d had enough.

“I don’t want to hear anymore,” she wept, her tone pleading, “please…”

But instead of reigniting their fight, he stopped at the side of the bed and reached up and behind his head to grasp the scruff of his sweater.

Irina watched, baffled and downright speechless as he hiked the Henley up and over his head, casting it aside without a care to where it fell.

The thin white tee shirt he wore underneath was sinfully tight.

“I-I…Bucky, I –

He silenced her by gently grasping her arm and pulling her to her knees in front of him on the bed.

He was so close, when she inhaled her chest grazed against his.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispered, “w-what you said -

She didn’t know where to put her hands, didn’t know where to look.

“Fuck what I said.”

His metal hand at the small of her back urging her closer had her trembling, bewildered, and…and… 

His fingers at her chin guided her to look up at him.

“Gotta tell me this is what you really want, Irina,” he muttered, clenching his jaw.

She lifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes.

_Fuck it…_

She didn’t care what had changed or why he came back, only that he did.

So she nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Y-Yes…yes,” she licked her lips, “fuck yes…”

He gave a small, almost nervous smirk, his hand on her lower back balling up the fabric of her shirt and tugging it upward.

Irina raised her arms so he could guide it up and off, shivering as the cool air hit her chest and stomach.

The plain black bra she wore wasn’t the fancy one she’d have gone with had she known this was how the night would play out, but the dark look in his eyes told her he couldn’t care less.

“Tell me if it’s too much?”

She nodded.

“Promise.”

His metal hand returned to her back and she gasped as his fingers trailed teasingly slow up her spine, skipping over the clasp of her bra to finally settle at the back of her neck.

Bucky licked his lips and she shivered, the shift in energy between them dizzying.

“’m gonna fuck you like I should have that first time.”

Her gasp was cut off by the commanding press of his lips to hers.

It startled her but her brain quickly caught up with her body and she whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His kiss was as soft and eager as she’d always imagined, and she quickly rose to meet his pace, kissing him back with a vigor that pulled a growl from him.

The second it escaped him; she knew she had to hear it again.

She tightened her hold on him and he broke their kiss with a hiss. Cursing under his breath in Russian, he pried her arms from around his neck.

“On your back, dorogaya.”

The pet name startled her, but she gave a beaming smile as she realized she hadn’t misheard him, happily doing as he said.

The second her back hit the bed, he pulled his tee shirt off and Irina’s mouth went dry.

He was absolutely, completely, irrefutably gorgeous.

Tight, toned muscle.

Soft, tanned skin.

A tempting, light trail of hair leading from his navel downward…

Her gaze flicked upward, caught the smug little smirk he was giving, and she blushed.

“Don’t go blushin’,” he soothed, reaching for the fly of her jeans, “we’re just getting’ started…”

She lifted her hips as he eased her jeans down, smiling as he tugged off her shoes with an annoyed huff. Her jeans soon followed them to the floor.

Her panties were just as plain as her bra, but again, he didn’t seem to care.

He licked his lips as he hooked his fingers under them and slowly pulled them down her legs.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbled as they reached her ankles, “so fucking gorgeous…”

He balled her panties up and tossed them aside, turning his focus to her.

She was surprised by his lips against her ankle and watched, enraptured, as he slowly worked his way down her leg.

When he reached her knee, he slipped his hands behind her knees and gently spread her legs before continuing his descent.

Irina fought the urge to cover her face.

_Was he…no…no he wouldn’t…_

But when he pushed her legs back and bit his lip, making to dip down, she jumped in surprise.

_Fuck, he was!_

Bucky looked up to her, brow arched.

“You don’t…really want to do that?” she whispered, “it…I…can’t taste good…”

He kissed the side of her knee.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Irina shook, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness washing over her.

“Trust me?” he asked, watching her carefully.

_Yes._

_Wholly._

“Yes,” she breathed.

He smirked, delving down and slipping his tongue between her slick folds.

Irina arched her back at the intimate contact, keening as his metal hand slipped downward to part her.

_Oh…my…g –_

His tongue on her clit made coherent thought impossible.

She grasped the bedspread, fisting the worn fabric and gasping, lips parted in a silent cry as he worked magic between her legs.

But just when she thought it couldn’t get better, he slipped two fingers into her sopping cunt and flicked wildly. She writhed, panting as his seeking fingers located and repeatedly struck a soft, sweet spot deep inside of her.

Eyes wide as the tight coil of her release built to a crescendo, she reached down to thread her fingers into his hair and gave a little tug.

It spurred him onward and a rough suckle of her clit later, her orgasm hit her hard.

He hummed, licking her through it.

When her shaking subsided some, he lifted his head and smirking, wiping her slick from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Fucking delicious,” he crawled over her, “you still with me?”

She nodded quickly and he chuckled.

“Feelin’ good, dorogaya?”

“Y-Yes,” she pulled him down, kissing him firmly.

She tasted herself on his lips and moaned, fingernails raking down his back.

Bucky pulled back, wrangling her eager hands and pinning them to either side of her head.

“Can’t go leavin’ marks, dorogaya,” he cautioned, nipping her chin before dipping down to lightly kiss her neck.

Irina fought back tears.

_No marks…Natasha can’t know…_

It was then she realized this – as perfect and profound as it was – was still a goodbye.

It was the indulgence of white-hot desire, sure to fizzle out come morning.

And damnit, she’d take it.

She’d take those scraps, savor him as she always wanted, then sneak off…

_It’s wrong…it will hurt worse than anything later…but I can’t turn away from this…_

She delved deep and used every ounce of strength inside of her to stomp down her tears as she kissed every bit of him she could.

_No…enjoy it while it lasts…_

He jumped when her lips grazed the scar tissue that marked the joining of flesh and metal, pulling back to look at her.

“Irina?”

She smiled.

He was close, pressed tight to her and so, so warm.

_Enjoy it while it lasts…_

“’m just happy,” she kissed his shoulder, “don’t stop…”

“You sure?”

She nodded into the crook of his neck.

“A hundred-percent.”

He eased off of her to quickly work his jeans off.

She stopped him as he went for his boxer briefs.

Bucky looked up at her, his look questioning.

“Lay down,” she whispered.

He smiled fondly, doing as she bid.

Irina settled on her knees between his legs, meeting his lustful gaze as she made a show of unhooking her bra.

When she dragged it down her arms and off, baring her chest to his gaze, he inhaled sharply.

She stood up, gaze flicking to him before she slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

He was hard, straining against the fabric and she bit her lip, excitement overpowering her nerves and sadness.

“I wanna taste too,” she mumbled, “I…don’t wanna hurt you though. I’ve never…”

He grabbed and squeezed her hand, giving her a look so sweet her stomach fluttered.

“You don’t have to…”

She pressed a kiss to his stomach, smiling against his skin as he tensed under her.

“Want to.”

He trembled as she pulled down the fabric, freeing him.

_W-Wow…_

She’d never been able to actually look at him before, when Mikhailov pushed them together. She only knew how he felt, how her body had needed time to get used to the feel of him. Now she could see why.

He was thick and hard in her hand.

She kept her touch feather-light, fearful of hurting him as she realized she had no idea how to make him feel good.

What was too much, too rough?

Her fingertips grazed the underside of his cock, sweeping down to his balls to fully explore him.

Bucky bit out a hurried stream of curses and Irina quickly pulled her hand away.

“Did I –

“’s good,” he stammered, “really good, dorogaya.”

Irina smiled bright, relieved.

He watched her intently as she stroked him, gently at first and then with more purpose as she got comfortable.

“Lick your lips, Irina,” Bucky bid her, groaning as her hand slowed.

Irina did as he said.

“Don’t take more than you think you can handle and go slow.”

She nodded quickly, wetting her lips again as she dipped down.

Pressing a soft kiss to the side of his cock, she flicked her tongue out experimentally and her confidence soared as he gasped her name.

_I…I’m doing this…I’m making him feel this…_

Hit with a strange confidence, Irina slowly took him in her mouth.

He was hard and warm, and the second that first long moan left him, she took in a bit more.

There was no way she could take all of him; he was too big, too thick. But she was desperate to do her best, for him to feel as amazing as he’d made her feel.

So she lightly sucked the head of his cock, stroking what she couldn’t take as she got used to the feel of him.

“Y-Your tongue…u-use your tongue,” he groaned, gasping as she complied.

She rubbed the inside of his thighs, taking in and savoring every strained gasp and moan he gave her. He was easy enough to read and she swirled her tongue around him as best she could.

He moaned, unable to resist lifting his hips ever so slightly to chase her sweet lips.

She hummed and he gasped, reaching down to gather up her hair and hold it back so he could watch her.

Irina closed her eyes, sucking in a greedy breath through her nose as she tried to relax and take a bit more of him.

He scrambled to sit up as he grazed the back of her throat, reaching down and urging her off of him.

“C-Close,” he panted, “’m close, Irina…”

She brushed away a dribble of spit from her lip, squealing in surprise as he pushed her back and settled over her.

Her heart swelled.

“Still sure about this?” he asked, flesh fingers trailing tenderly down her cheek as he looked into her eyes.

“Yes, please…”

_Whatever you can give me I’ll take…please…_

He reached down between them and she gasped at the feeling of his cock grazing her slick folds.

“Relax, dorogaya…”

Her breath caught as he pressed forward, the head of his cock bumping against her opening.

“Want you,” she gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “please…want to feel you.”

The look he gave her was so tender and warm, it was hard to keep the lid on her tears. But she stomped them down, cupping his face and grazing her thumbs across the apples of his cheeks.

_Just savor this…him…_

He was giving what he could, she realized, and it only made her love him more.

With a slow motion of his hips, he breached her.

Irina gasped and he kissed her slowly, their tongue meeting, as he sheathed himself inside of her.

Suddenly so full, Irina broke their kiss to roll her head back, a strained groan leaving her.

Bucky didn’t move, choosing instead to lavish sloppy kisses across her chest, flicking his tongue over her nipples.

“You’re fucking perfection,” he growled, shifting to cup her breast, “fuck baby…so damn tight…”

He rolled his hips into her lazily and she shook, the familiar slide of his length almost too much.

She shook her head.

“You,” she breathed, “y-you’re perfect.”

He chuckled into her neck before kissing his way up to her chin.

“No way,” he picked up his pace, pulling a sharp gasp from her, “it’s all you, baby…”

She couldn’t answer him, couldn’t argue his claim.

Her voice was gone, lost.

She could only feel.

The sting and stretch as he thrusted into her, her body bending to accommodate him.

The warmth of his kisses to her neck and chest.

The weight of his body over hers…perfect…

_This time…this time I’ll commit you to memory…_

She found her voice as his pace became rough and desperate. His forehead pressed to hers, she whispered her pleas to him as he pushed her closer to her climax with each thrust.

“More…please…more…”

He bit his lip.

“Please don’t stop…”

He nipped her bottom lip, sucking it as he grunted over her.

“Wanna feel you…”

He came, shaking and gasping over her. She held him through it, kissing his neck as hot pulses of his seed filled her.

When he was spent, he collapsed on her, panting heavily against her neck.

She wanted to thank him, to tell him again how much she loved him.

But his grip on her tightened and he rolled them over, so she was straddling his thighs.

_Again?_

He stroked himself hard and pulled her down so he could capture her nipple between his lips.

Irina was dizzy with want.

_A-Again._

She felt him, hard and slick with their combined juices against her inner thigh and eagerly inched down, whimpering as his slipped inside of her with ease.

“There ya go,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “this what you need, dorogaya?”

She pressed down, savoring the fullness that made her heart soar, rocking her hips and keening as her clit rubbed against him just right…

“Good girl,” he praised, gaze fixed between them to where they were connected, “takin’ me so well…”

Irina moaned, biting her lip hard, unable to tear her eyes from him.

He smirked up at her, his finger finding and assaulting her clit relentlessly.

Irina couldn’t breathe.

She was close, so deliciously close…

“Wanna cum, baby?” he drawled, “wanna cum on my cock?”

“Y-Yes,” she gasped, shaking, “p-please…”

With a growl, he grabbed her hips and braced himself, using her and the leverage he gained to thrust up into her.

He jerked her down on him in time, and it was enough to send her spiraling.

Irina saw stars, clenching around him involuntarily as another orgasm enveloped her.

“That’s it,” Bucky hissed, “that’s it, baby…”

She collapsed, spent, across his chest.

He kissed her neck, muttering praise to her as he eased her aside, his cock slipping from her.

She moaned, loosely hugging him as he manhandled her, moving them both towards the edge of the bed.

She grumbled his name sleepily, so pleasantly spent she could pass out if he let her.

“Need a break?” he asked, tone husky and dark but, strangely, still sincere.

She opened her eyes, smiling and shook her head.

He kissed her, slowly and passionately as he ran his hands up her sides, taking in the feel of her.

“So fucking good to me, dorogaya,” he murmured against her lips, awed.

Irina licked her lips, tenderly brushing his hair back out of his face before dipping down to steal a quick peak of his lips.

“You’re good to me,” she whispered, sighing in contentment as she shifted her hips and his cock filled her, pushing the breath from her lips, “so good…”

She gripped his shoulders, mindful not to dig her nails into his flesh one, to brace herself as she lifted and lowered her hips in short, jerky movements.

She loved it, loved him, loved the position he was taking her in…

Able to look him in the eye, she didn’t dare let her gaze stray.

He was beautiful and, for the moment, hers.

“You feel so good,” she said in a single breath, needy and desperate, “so big…”

He wrapped his arms around her, hands moving greedily up and down her back.

“’m so full,” she licked her lips, “so fucking full…”

He grabbed her hips, urging her onward and gasping as she leaned back, allowing him a generous glimpse of her bouncing breasts.

“Fuck…Irina…”

Irina whimpered as he roughly hugged her to him, holding her tight to him with his metal arm as he reached between them with the other to slowly circle her clit.

“One more,” he breathed, “gimme one more, love.”

‘Love’ did it. She came, writhing against him and biting down on her own arm to stifle her cries as it piqued and waned.

She was limp and pliant against him as he brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“Hold on, love…”

_There it is again…_

“Gonna take you rough,” he grabbed and parted her buttocks teasingly, “that okay?”

He kissed her neck and she melted, eagerly nodding.

“You want that?”

_Yes…fuck…yes…_

“Want me to be rough?”

“Y-Yes,” she gasped, licking a strip up his neck, “p-please Bucky…”

He shushed her.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll fill you up…”

It was all the warning she had before he started a rough, quick pace that had her practically bouncing on his cock.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck…_

Irina leaned back as much as his tight grasp would allow, back arching as every bit of her thrummed with pleasure.

His movements became sloppy and he came soon after, seed spilling deep inside of her, before he flopped back on the bed, shaking and spent.

Irina grimaced as his cock slipped from her, stretching out across his chest and lazily kissing his neck as they tried to catch their breath.

As she regained her senses she wondered if this was it.

Would he push her aside, dress and hurry from the room?

Would he yell at her again? Call her all those awful things again?

Bucky recovered before her, gently easing her to his side, and her heart sank.

This was it.

She turned and watched him retreat to the washroom and emerge a second later with a damp washcloth in hand.

She gave a petulant whine as he nudged her knees apart and dragged the cool cloth over her tender flesh. It was startling and stirred a sharp ache across her folds and she jerked her hips, grimacing a bit but giving no further protest.

“Sore?” he asked quietly.

Irina nodded, looking up at him and realizing a stern, solemn tone had settled upon his features.

_No…no…not yet…please…_

She sat up as he finished cleaning her up, reaching out and grasping his wrist as he made to head back to the washroom.

“Please…”

He sighed and hung his head, focusing on the washcloth.

“Irina –

“Tonight,” she pressed, standing and quickly hugging him, “just give me the rest of the night…please…”

She closed her eyes to stave off her tears, trying to soak up the warmth of him as she ran her hands up and down his back.

It was perfect.

Them…together…

If this was all she was going to get, she wanted it all.

After all, it was going to have to last a lifetime.

He dropped the washcloth, bringing his shaking hands up to her back.

She smiled despite her sadness as his fingers ran through her hair, over her back.

“We shouldn’t have…”

She felt his chest heave under her cheek as he struggled to take a deep breath and blinked back tears as she looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.

“Bucky –

“I love Natasha,” he muttered, unable to look down at her, “I’m in love with Natasha…”

Irina choked on a sob and pressed her forehead to his chest, tightening her hold on him for fear he would push her away.

“Then why did you come back?” she asked, voice wavering.

He sighed.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do…”

“No, I don’t.”

Irina kissed his chest.

“You love me…somewhere…deep down…”

“I don’t.”

Her chest seized tight.

“I don’t love you,” he mumbled.

_Is this denial? Or…_

He didn’t love her.

_Don’t you dare fucking cry; you knew this was it…_

“I love you,” she said instead, “I love you more than I could ever say…”

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, firmly guiding her back from his chest to look up at him. His touch didn’t hurt, didn’t ignite fear in her, but it was stern, demanding.

She trembled as their eyes locked, knowing her heartache had to be plain to see.

“You don’t,” he said firmly, “you can’t.”

“I do,” she affirmed stubbornly, “please…just give me the rest of the night.”

He pursed his lips and she loosened her hold on him to let her hands fall to his hips.

“The rest of the night,” she breathed, eyes watery, “just hold me…then we can pretend this never happened…”

He swallowed hard and she thought for a moment she’d lost him.

But he nodded, loosening his grip of her hair and brushing out the tangle he’d caused with his fingers.

She sniffled, taking him by the hand and guiding him back to the bed.

He settled silently atop the covers, reclining back against the pillows.

Spread out as he was, he was a sight to behold and she rubbed away her tears as she curled up next to him.

Irina rested her head on his chest, sighing in contentment as he shifted to drape his arm around her. She snuggled up as close as she could, draping her leg over his as she tentatively touched his stomach.

She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. He’d be stoic and conflicted, distant in a stubborn move to deny it all.

Instead, she kept her focus on his stomach, deep in though as she rubbed circles over his warm skin with her thumb.

“Y-You,” he started quietly, “you can’t be sure…”

“Of what?”

“That you love me.”

“I am,” Irina said evenly, without hesitation.

“You haven’t lived long enough to know what love is,” Bucky countered.

“I’m older than I look,” she said with a shrug, “they kept me in cryo a lot.”

“They did?” he asked, fingers toying with her hair.

She nodded against him.

“Maybe…maybe I haven’t lived long enough to know what love is,” she conceded reluctantly, “but I was raised by Hydra…I know what pain and fear are…”

His fingers stilled.

“And I know in the midst of that was you,” she slowly brought her hand up his chest, settling over his sternum, “you were the only good thing in all of that…”

“I raped you.”

Irina propped herself up on her elbow to look him in the eye.

“Would you rather his guard have had me?” she asked in a whisper.

He immediately shook his head no.

“It wasn’t your fault, or mine,” she said with a sad smirk, “it was just…what we had to do to survive.”

“And this?”

“You already know what is it for me…”

He frowned, looking beyond her to the clock on the wall.

Irina sighed.

She crept up so they were eye-to-eye, slowly lifting her leg over him so she was straddling his waist. He jumped in surprise, gripping her hips and looking at her in confusion.

Irina tenderly cupped his face.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, smiling, “it’s okay.”

He reached up to touch her wrist and she thought he was going to jerk her hand away, but instead he slowly ran his hand up her arm.

Her heart swelled with an overwhelming, pure love. To hell with the sadness it was laced with, she savored it.

It was real.

_He’s giving what he can…what he can bring himself to give…_

“This part of us is done come morning,” she said, more to herself than him, “I know that. I do.”

He squeezed her arm tenderly and she knew it was to offer some sort of unspoken comfort.

“Just please know I do love you,” she gasped, throat so tight there might as well be a hand clasped around it, “I really do.”

His hand left her arm and settled on her cheek and she leaned into it.

“It hurts to breathe…”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath and she saw his chin quiver.

“Please…just fuck me till it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she pleaded, licking her lips, “p-please…”

He grabbed her hands and sat up in one quick motion to kiss her breathless.

Irina gasped against his lips, sinking into him.

He kept his lips pressed to hers as he pushed her backward, roughly pushing his tongue past her lips to devour her.

When they parted for breath, she caught the need in his gaze and arched upward, pressing her chest against his.

“Y-Yes,” she stammered, breathless, “whatever you want…yes…”

He growled, hiking her legs up and apart to spread her.

But instead of slamming into her as she expected, he loomed over her, nipping her chin before dipping down to the curve of her neck.

Irina cried out as he bit her sharply before roughly sucking the tender spot.

It would undoubtedly leave a mark, but she didn’t care.

She had no one to hide the marks from.

He moved down some, sucking another mark.

She rolled her head to the side to give him all the room he needed.

“B-Bucky…”

His lips left her with a pop.

“Hate how fucking bad I want you,” he grumbled, sliding the length of his cock up and down her slit teasingly, “I fucking hate it…”

“I know,” she soothed, “it’s okay…”

He stopped his teasing, pulling back to line himself with her opening.

“It’s not,” he muttered, slamming into her in one smooth motion.

Irina wailed.

She was dripping with arousal but tender from taking him before. To suddenly take each glorious inch of his cock…

It was too much.

He kept her legs spread, leaning back to watch his length slide in an out of her.

His thrusts were punishing but slow. He pulled from her almost completely each time before sliding back in, bottoming out.

“Open up for me, love,” he hissed, biting his lip.

Irina writhed, alight with pleasure.

“Good girl…”

The sting each thrust sent deep inside of her made her keen and curl her toes.

“Such a fucking good girl…”

“Y-Yours,” she gasped, “I’m yours…”

He growled, quickening his pace as he eyed her swaying breasts.

“My good girl…”

Irina reached down between them and cried out in delight as she rubbed her clit.

“H-Harder…please, Bucky…”

Bucky smirked and slowed his pace, dipping down to suck her nipple.

He was rough, pulling at it with his lips before mercifully letting her go with a pop, only to descend on her again.

When she was red and sore, he moved to her other breast.

The sight of him suckling her had her moaning and gasping, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter deep inside of her.

“C-Close,” was all she could muster.

His let go of her nipple to kiss her lips, renewing his fast pace.

“I know, love,” he gritted his teeth, “can feel you…”

Irina rubbed her clit faster, so close she couldn’t find her voice.

Bucky had no such problem.

“So fucking perfect…”

Irina whined, bearing down to clench tight around him.

“Oh, fuck, baby…”

She gasped; a silent cry caught in her throat as she came.

“Y-Yes,” he growled, “cum for me, baby…”

She struggled for breath, her hands falling limply back as she shivered, the aftershocks of her orgasm coupled with his continued thrusts rendering her limp and speechless.

Bucky gave a low, desperate moan, stretching out over her as his thrusts became erratic.

He came a sharp thrust later, collapsing atop her as he spilled.

Irina held him tight.

He propped himself up on his elbows a short breath later, allowing her to breathe deeply.

“B-Bucky…”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and wept.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, rubbing his back, “I swear…it’s okay…”

“It’s not,” he hissed, fingers digging roughly into her shoulders as he slipped his arms under her, keeping her tight to him, “Irina, it’s not…”

She shushed him.

“I-I want more,” he confessing through tears, “I want you again and again until I can’t anymore…”

He bit her neck, tongue flicking over her sweat-slicked skin.

“You have me,” she moaned, biting her lip, “you have me, Bucky…”

“I don’t want another to touch you.”

His words were tight, angry, and she berated herself inwardly for being the source of such conflict, such agonizing inner turmoil.

“I don’t want another,” she whispered truthfully.

Irina kissed his shoulder, keeping her lips on his skin so as to press into him all the love she felt.

“Tonight,” she reminded him, “we have tonight…”

He responded with a groan, quickly lifting himself from her and manhandling her onto her hands and knees before him.

_A-Again…_

* * *

Irina awoke just as sunlight filtered through the cracks of the cheap blinds covering the drafty window. She was immediately aware that she was alone on the bed, and her chin quivered despite knowing she had no business to mourn his departure.

The night had come and gone, and now he had too.

Opening her eyes and rolling over, her gaze landed on Bucky.

He was sitting in the chair near the door, freshly showered and clutching a white paper bag as he hung his head.

Irina swallowed hard.

“H-Hey.”

He said nothing. The only indication he heard her was the weak nod he gave.

She wrapped the bedsheet around herself and sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as a sharp jab of pain spread between her legs.

She’d lost track of the number of times he’d taken her, the number of times she’d climaxed…

_Super soldier stamina…_

It hurt now, but she knew in time it would fade along with the memory of his warm touch, so she relished it now, while she could.

It was sick but…well, so was everything else she felt.

“Mornin’,” she tried again, managing a small smirk as he finally looked up to her.

“You okay?” he asked, chewing the inside of his cheek as he looked her over.

Irina nodded.

“Sore…but nothing a warm bath and time won’t fix.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and stood, cautiously approaching her and handing her the bag as he sat down beside her.

Irina opened it and took out the small box inside.

“O-Oh…”

Plan B.

“T-Thanks,” she tore it open quickly, dry swallowing the single tablet without glancing at the pamphlet that came with it.

Bucky nodded.

“I’m going to head back to the compound,” he said evenly, “you should wait a bit before heading back yourself…”

“S-Sure…”

Made sense.

Bucky sighed heavily, rubbing his face before shaking his head.

“We’re never going to speak of what happened here again…”

“I know…”

“Because this never happened,” he mumbled.

She nodded.

“I don’t love you like you love me,” he continued, gaze fixed forward to the door, “I’m in love with Natasha, I want her.”

“I-I know…”

_Didn’t make it any harder to hear…again._

“This…was…”

“A mistake, I know,” she tightened her hold on the sheet wrapped around her, “just go.”

He looked to her then and her focus shot to the door in a failed attempt to keep him from seeing the way her eyes brimmed with tears.

_Fuck…how do I have more to cry?_

“You’ll be alright?” he asked softly.

The question made her angry.

How could she be alright?

But she swallowed it.

He didn’t deserve it.

She knew what she was getting into when they first kissed.

He wasn’t hers to have.

So she used every ounce of strength in her to lie as convincingly as she could.

“I will, in time.”

He gave no indication he didn’t believe her and maybe he didn’t care.

All he did was grab and squeeze her hand quickly before standing and heading towards the door. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, gave her once last sad glance, and left.

The ensuing silence was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I've decided to make this a longer fic then I initially intended, since you all seem to be liking it well enough. Won't be as long as 'The Prodigal', likely containing about 10 or so chapters, but much longer than the intial 4-5 parts I expected it to be. Hope that's okay :)


	6. V: Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina comes and goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *barbershop quartet enters*  
> MIND THE TAGS, MIND THE TAGS, MIND THE TAGS!

Irina waited for the tub to fill, balling up the sheet she covered herself with and setting it aside to look at herself in the mirror.

Her neck was a collage of bite marks and hickies, her nipples reddened and tender to the touch. She turned and glanced over her shoulder to glimpse her back, grimacing at the sight of scratches and angry bruises running up and down. Small cuts and bruises marred her hips, and her cunt throbbed with a dull ache.

But none of it compared to the pain of her broken heart; and none of it she regretted.

It was all she had left of him…

Sighing heavily, she turned off the tap and slowly lowered herself into the warm water, hissing as she sat down.

She took her time, savoring the comforting warmth of the water as she tried to figure out how she was going to keep a straight face when she returned to the compound…

When she saw him with Natasha…

_Don’t cry…don’t cry…_

She knew what she was getting into, what would happen when the sun rose…

It made being upset seem foolish, but she couldn’t stop her chin from quivering as the full weight of it hit her.

She could never have the man she loved.

She’d have to watch him with another, bury her heartbreak and sorrow and maintain her façade at all costs.

Because no one would ever understand. They couldn’t.

Everyone at the compound would revile her…hell, Natasha might even try to kill her…

_Couldn’t even blame her for trying…_

Steve, Tony, Bruce, Wanda, Sam, Clint…they’d all think her sick and twisted.

Irina didn’t feel as though she belonged now, but if they learned the truth…

Her breath caught in her throat and she gave a low, pained whine.

She was alone.

* * *

Irina left the hotel room without a backwards glance, meandering down the corridor without bothering to lift her hood.

Somehow, being caught on security cameras didn’t matter much anymore…

She stepped out onto the street and decided against taking the bus, setting off down the road to walk back to the compound. It would take infinitely longer but she was in no rush. She needed the silence and the fresh air to help clear her mind in preparation for seeing him.

She was about three hours into her walk, on the side of a winding back country road, when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She sighed as she took it out and was surprised to see his name on the screen. A quick swipe of her thumb opened the message.

**B: Where are you?**

Irina snorted in amusement.

Now he was worried?

She wanted to scream and chuck her phone in the ditch but managed to resist the urge.

In the silence her walk allowed, she’d come to terms with leaving the compound for good. It was the only real option and if she was going to slip away without being caught she had to play it cool so as not to raise concern.

That meant biting her tongue.

**I: I’m on my way, sit tight, old man.**

He responded a few minutes later.

**B: Tell me where you are, I’ll come pick you up.**

Irina laughed.

**I: Don’t bother, nearly there.**

She turned her phone off and shoved it back in her pocket.

* * *

Irina wandered into the compound about an hour after she’d turned off her phone and was met the second she stepped off of the lift on the residential wing by a trio of concerned, and pissed, looking Avengers.

Bucky being among them.

Irina made a point not to look at him.

“What the hell were you thinking walking out like that?” Steve barked, features stern as he looked her up and down, “and what the hell happened to your neck?”

_Ah, Bucky’s handiwork…_

She hadn’t had many options to help obscure them. The collar of her jacket concealed some, but not all.

Tony snickered.

“Uh, Cap –

“I went out to have some fun,” Irina quipped, making to push past him, “you should try it sometime, Captain Prude.”

Steve grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She glared at him, but he looked past her to Bucky.

“You want to step in here, Buck?”

Reluctantly, Irina turned to him.

And Bucky swallowed hard, gaze cast downward.

He remained silent.

Irina jerked free of Steve’s grip.

“I might look young, Cap, but I’m not. I’m not a kid, and last I checked I wasn’t a prisoner here,” she looked to Tony, “unless that’s changed?”

“It hasn’t,” Tony confirmed.

“Good,” Irina turned to Steve, smirking, “loosen up, Steve. Have some fun, get laid!”

Tony chuckled and Steve blushed, still stubbornly grasping at the strings of his stern façade.

“If you need help with the later, let me know,” she drawled, stepping around him, “otherwise, I’ll be in my room.”

* * *

Irina didn’t leave her room except to grab some snacks from the kitchen after everyone had finished with dinner. Someone, Steve most likely, had set aside a plate of leftovers for her, her name on a sticky-note affixed to it, but she bypassed it for some protein bars and a bottle of water.

Everyone had fallen silent when she’d entered the kitchen, making poorly concealed attempts to glance at her. Irina gave them the cold shoulder and retreated to the safety of her room.

At least, it had been safe.

Once everyone had wandered off to bed, a commotion from the room beside hers jerked her from her uneasy slumber.

After a confusing few breaths where she struggled to process what she was hearing and where it was coming from, her heart plummeted.

Muted moans and grunts made ‘what’ easy enough to discern once the fog of sleep had lifted. As far as ‘where’ was concerned…it was coming from Bucky’s bedroom, which was right next to hers.

Immediately tears welled in her eyes and she buried her face in her pillow, desperate to smother her cries.

Was it that easy for Bucky to go right back to her? To toss aside everything to fall into bed with Natasha when not twenty-four hours ago he was with her?

Their cries of pleasure grew, and Irina choked on a sob. She hurried from her bed, retreating to the bathroom with a thick blanket in hand.

She shut the door and tossed the blanket in the tub before slipping in and cuddling up on it. The gut-wrenching noises were a bit quieter, but it didn’t matter.

They replayed in her mind, the soundtrack to the words he’d uttered the previous night…

_‘I don’t love you like you love me…’_

Irina pressed her hands over her ears to help drown out the lingering sounds of pleasure leaking through the walls.

_‘I’m in love with Natasha…’_

Irina sobbed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as it all became too much.

_‘I don’t love you…’_

Breathing hurt.

_‘You’re fucking sick…’_

And, god, she was tired of hurting.

_‘…stay the fuck away from me from here on out…’_

Even after the moans subsided, Irina didn’t sleep.

She wept until there was nothing left to cry, and then she fell silent, completely numb and broken in the bathtub until the small hours of the morning.

* * *

Irina was spreading peanut butter on her bagel when Bucky wandered out into the kitchen. She knew the sound of his footsteps, so she kept her focus on her food, not wanting him to see how red and puffy her eyes were.

“H-Hi…”

His voice was soft, and she risked the smallest of glances his way before shutting the jar of peanut butter and standing on her tippy-toes to place it back in the cupboard.

He stepped a bit closer to her, his hands in his sweater pockets as the silence between them grew more uncomfortable.

“You okay?” he dared ask in a hushed voice.

Irina gave a short, sad laugh and finally turned to look him straight-on.

She saw realization strike him as his gaze looked over her from head to toe.

Her red-rimmed eyes, pale complexion, and gaunt cheeks…

The healing hickies on her neck…

“No,” she mumbled, licking peanut butter from her finger as she grabbed her plate, “didn’t get any sleep last night…”

Bucky swallowed hard.

“O-Oh…”

“Yeah,” she snapped, angrier than she meant but unable to hold it back, “my neighbors decided to fuck like rabbits all night so…”

Bucky blushed, bit the inside of his cheek and looked down.

“Kind of hard to fall asleep when your neighbor wants the whole fucking compound to know he’s getting laid,” she quipped, making to step past him.

She needed to get back to her room. Somehow, tears were brimming in her eyes and she’d be damned if she let him see her cry.

She didn’t need a lecture – she knew she shouldn’t be so upset given how upfront he’d been about it being a one-time thing, never to be spoken of again. She didn’t need him reminding her.

Bucky grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Irina –

“Stop,” she mumbled, “just stop.”

He slowly let go of her, gaze fixed on her watery eyes and quivering bottom lip.

The pity in his blue eyes enraged her.

“You’ve hurt me enough,” she whispered, “don’t ever touch me again…”

He looked as though he’d been struck.

“I…didn’t mean –

“For me to hear?” she hissed, “yeah I’m sure I crossed your mind.”

He fell silent and pursed his lips, but Irina wasn’t finished.

“I wished you could know the pain I feel,” she breathed, “I’d go a hundred rounds in Hydra’s chair if it would make this stop.”

He winced at her words.

“I hope you’re happy…one of us should be…”

She retreated to her room without a backward glance.

* * *

Keeping her head down for the next two days was easy. Irina didn’t have the energy to get out of bed let alone speak to anyone.

Wanda left her meals at her door and tried to speak to her through the door, but Irina never answered.

She had nothing to say.

It all blended together; the pain so consistent she wondered if it would ever lift.

But as that thought crossed her mind, it inevitably raised another – was it even possible?

Sadness sat so heavily atop her she felt as though it had seeped into her pores, tangled in her DNA. The idea of smiling and laughing felt foreign and unnatural, as unattainable as wining the big jackpot in the lottery…

At the end of the second day, she got the encrypted message she was waiting for and sluggishly got out of bed. It was as though she was on autopilot. She showered, dressed, and tidied her room.

Irina didn’t want to leave a mess for them to clean up.

When it was as good as it was going to get, she tore a page from a notebook and wrote a quick note. The last thing she needed was them trying to pursue her and while she felt numb and out of place, she did owe them all quite a bit.

She paused just a moment before putting pen to paper…

**Hey guys,**

**Please don’t panic or worry. I’ve left to see this through on my own and I ask that you respect my wishes and do not attempt to catch up with me. Mikhailov will die and life at the compound will go on. But it’s going to go on without me.**

**I won’t be returning.**

**So this is goodbye.**

**It’s no one’s fault but mine, but I swear I did try. I just don’t belong here, and I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. Honestly, I’m not sure if someone like me can belong…but it’s a big world so I suppose I have to try.**

She blinked back tears, then continued…

**Please take care of Bucky for me. I’m sure he’ll blame himself…hit him for me if he does. This isn’t on any of you – it’s my choice, my life.**

**And I’ve got to figure this out on my own.**

**Please don’t worry. I had a good trainer; I’ll get the job done.**

**Take care of yourselves and thank you for everything. That you all tried is more than I deserve.**

**\- Irina**

She folded it neatly, tucking it inside Natasha’s book and leaving it on her desk by the window. She crept from her room, slipping from shadow to shadow to fetch the supplies she’d stashed. A well-timed hack of the security system temporarily muted Friday, allowing her to hotwire an agent’s personal car and escape into the night.

Irina didn’t let herself look back.

* * *

Friday alerted them to her escape four hours later, when Irina’s override timed out and she regained control. They all scrambled from their rooms in a confused panic, scouring her room and the garage for any clue as to where she’d have gone.

Bucky was ripping through her desk after having turned her room upside down, heart racing in a blinding panic he’d not felt for years, when he noticed Natasha’s book atop the desk with a folded piece of paper sticking out of its pages.

Hands shaking, he pulled it out and unfolded it.

His heart dropped into his stomach and all color had left his face by the time he reached the end.

_She…she…_

Gone.

She was gone, in the wind; alone in pursuit of a madman.

But beyond the terror of imagining her charging into combat against Hydra on her own, was the deep fear her sorrow-laced words ignited in him.

He knew she’d been depressed, knew he was the cause of it, but feared pressing her and angering her further. He’d already pushed her away with his own fears and selfishness, what if he pushed her too hard and she cut him out entirely?

But now an entirely darker fear took root.

_What if…if she…_

His chest tightened and he knew from experience he was one breath away from a panic attack.

_She…she doesn’t feel like she belongs…she could…could…_

His legs felt weak and it was as though his flesh arm weighed a ton it was so numb and heavy.

_I-I did this…I hurt her…I knew how bad it would hurt her and I-I did it anyway…_

He blinked back tears and forced the thought from his mind, knowing it would drive him to recklessness if he considered it too closely. Irina needed him to be level-headed right now if they were going to figure out where she went and catch up.

_I’ve…I’ve got to find her…she h-has to know…has to…_

Bucky began to shake.

Steve caught his reaction and cautiously approached, taking the letter from Bucky’s hand and reading it.

When he looked up from the page, Bucky’s watery gaze was on him.

“Buck, we’ll find her,” he hurriedly assured him, “we will –

“We have to,” Bucky managed in a tight breath, “Steve…I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t.”

* * *

A week.

It took them a goddamn week to catch up to her.

And now, all Bucky could think of, was how fucking slow the quinjet really was.

“ETA three minutes,” Clint called back from the controls.

Bucky nodded, clutching his weapon tight as he waited near the closed ramp at the back of the quinjet, ready to emerge the second they landed.

Steve stood nearby, eyeing Bucky cautiously while Natasha double checked her weapons and ammunition.

Something had shifted between he and Natasha in that week, though if he were being honest it started the morning he got back from the hotel. She hadn’t pressed him on it, but Bucky knew she suspected something, though likely not with Irina.

He was surprised she kept quiet but wondered if she feared giving voice to her worries might make them real.

He sighed.

He did love Natasha. He respected her and trusted her, which was why he loathed himself for what he’d done. She didn’t deserve to be betrayed like that, and he’d tried to compensate and find their footing again if only to assuage his crippling guilt.

Natasha was who he should be with.

But not necessarily the one he wanted desperately to be with.

_Find her first, make sure she’s safe, then try to figure the rest out…_

Bucky glanced out the nearest window and spotted their target – a secluded cabin near a picturesque lake.

It had been Steve’s idea to follow and locate her instead of Mikhailov; betting on her being the easier target to locate given her desperation.

It was a good idea, and it had worked…sort of.

They’d been two steps behind Irina the entire time as she hopped from one city to the next, her pace so unwavering Bucky suspected she was pushing herself to the limit to reach Mikhailov. There was no way she was eating and resting as she should, and he worried even more for her mental and physical wellbeing.

_Please be okay…please be okay…please be okay…_

His heart raced, pounding almost painfully in his chest.

_You have to be okay…please…_

Bucky would gladly endure her hatred so long as she was alive and well. He’d earned it, there was no arguing that. And an Irina who was cold, distant, but alive was better than the panic-induced scenarios he’d conjured up in his mind over the last week.

“Beginning descent, readying defences,” Clint called out.

Bucky let out a shaky breath.

Irina was perfection, soft and sweet from head to toe. His nightmares for the past week – when he did manage to sleep at all – centered on her.

On her soft skin…fallen ashen as life left her.

On her lips…turning a dusty blue as her final breath left her.

On her eyes…dull, distant, and dry as her consciousness slipped away.

Natasha gripped his arm and squeezed.

It was meant to be comforting, but Bucky jumped, her touch jerking him from the worries racing through his mind.

She gave him an apologetic look and let go.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, “we’re here, Bucky, we’re here for her.”

He managed a terse nod but feared holding that hope too close.

Good things that crossed his path didn’t stay good for long. He tainted them the second one dared get too close, which was what happened with Irina.

He’d ruined her, long before he’d given into his awful thoughts in the hotel and taken her again and again until he’d been sapped of energy.

The quinjet settled on the ground and Bucky’s chest tightened as the ramp lowered.

If he’d been stronger all those years ago and fought back against Hydra, he could have escaped the bunker with her. He could have truly protected her, instead of pining her to the cot and taking her by force.

He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, raised his rifle and stepped from the quinjet with Natasha and Steve close behind him.

The cabin was eerily quiet and as they neared, Natasha made to investigate something off to the side, near a pile of crates.

“Deceased male, probably a bodyguard,” she reported in a hushed tone, “broken neck.”

“Front door is open,” Steve said, shooting a concerned look to Bucky.

Bucky hurried up the porch steps and nudged the door open further with his rifle. Just inside, another body lay spread out on the floor. The man had been shot in the back of the head and upon a taking a closer look, Bucky figured he’d been dead for a couple of hours.

“We’re too late,” he mumbled as he stood, weapon lowered as he looked around the small space.

Steve clasped his shoulder before stepping around him to clear the remainder of the cabin.

He found a third body, that of an old man riddled with bullets in the only bedroom. He waved Bucky towards him, and he confirmed what Steve suspected.

It was Mikhailov.

The scoured the building, dug through every cupboard and crate for clues and explored the crawlspace before venturing out into the forest. They searched for hours and aside from confirming that the gun used matched the caliber of the pistol Irina stole, they had nothing.

No fingerprints, no boot impressions in the soft soil, not even a stray hair. None of it really surprised Bucky – he had trained her after all, even if he didn’t recall it all – but it was still a hard pill to swallow.

When the sun had set and Clint and Natasha had returned to the quinjet, Bucky kept searching.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t going to find anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Stopping meant giving up on Irina, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So he tore through the cabin again.

Steve stepped into the cabin as Bucky was rifling through the books they’d strewn out around the room hours ago and he regarded his friend solemnly.

“Buck…we didn’t miss anything…”

Bucky shook his head, unwilling to believe it.

Steve took a small step toward him.

“Bucky –

“Don’t,” Bucky snapped, “don’t say it.”

Steve sighed.

“But…she isn’t here, Buck.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and heaved the book he was holding towards the window with enough force to shatter the pane.

He turned to Steve, shaking with anger and fear.

“Do you think I haven’t realized that?”

“I’m not saying we stop trying to find her, Buck,” Steve said gently, “but we can’t stay here.”

Bucky knew that. Hydra agents would certainly come to investigate the silence of the cabin, and they weren’t prepared for a full-on assault. But the cabin – as spare and bloodied as it was – was the last place he knew she had been.

If they left now, empty handed, how were they going to find her?

No, they needed something, some clue to narrow their search. Otherwise, Irina was in the wind, and finding her would be a herculean task.

_I’ve got to find her…got to tell her…_

Bucky roughly rubbed his face, grumbling as tears slipped past his eyelashes.

_I’ve…I’ve got to keep her safe…have to make things right…_

“Steve,” he whispered, now shaking violently as it all came crashing down, “Steve, I can’t leave her without something…anything to help track her down…”

“But there’s nothing here, Bucky,” Steve soothed, reaching out and grasping his shoulder to help steady him.

“There has to be,” he countered angrily, looking to Steve through watery eyes, “she can’t…she can’t have just vanished!”

Steve’s sad expression served only to chip another crack in the walls Bucky had erected around himself. He shook his head and tried to brush off Steve’s hand from his shoulder, only to stumble backward a bit.

He swatted away Steve’s attempts to help him.

“Bucky –

“I’m not going home without her,” he snapped stubbornly, “Steve, I-I can’t…”

“We’re going to find her, Bucky. This isn’t giving up.”

“It feels like it,” Bucky mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair, “Steve…we’d have no clue where to start…”

No one knew better than Bucky how big the world was and how easy it was for one person to hide in the crowd. He’d done it for years on missions as the Winter Solider, and again after it all went to hell with the Sokovian Accords.

But Irina was depressed, alone, and hurting.

All of which were his fault, and the terrifying ‘what ifs’ that came with it had him reeling. 

He wanted to scream but couldn’t find his voice. His throat was tight, and he felt lightheaded.

He tried to recall the memory of her warm body pressed against him and realized how badly he regretted leaving the hotel.

He grasped the back of a chair to steady himself

Was she warm still? Or had she already done what he feared most?

Was she cold and motionless in some dark corner?

“W-Why didn’t she leave me anything, Steve?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked tentatively, not wanting to upset his friend further.

“A-A note or…or something,” Bucky pursed his lips, hanging his head.

“She did.”

“No,” he scoffed, “she left us a note, the team.”

Steve saw him falter and grabbed him just before his knees gave out.

“Bucky –

“I fucked up, Stevie,” he wept, “she needed me, and I fucked up and now she’s gone…”

“We’re going to find her, Buck.”

“How?” he snapped angrily, “when? She’s hurting now, she’s depressed now! What…what if she…”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought, but Steve knew where he was going.

“Don’t go there, Buck. Come on.”

Bucky let Steve led him from the cabin, albeit reluctantly.

He felt like each step he took closer to the quinjet was another further away from her and a reminder of this new reality.

Irina was gone.

She’d left and because he’d been so selfish and awful to her, she hadn’t even left him a note.

He ascended the ramp with Steve and Natasha stepped away from the conversation she’d been having with Clint to approach him.

Her embrace, as gentle and loving as it was, knocked the wind from him and he buried his face in the crook of her neck to obscure his tears.

“We’re going to find her, Bucky,” Natasha promised in a hushed voice, a whisper breathed into his ear, “this isn’t the end.”

But it felt like it was.

Because as Natasha held and comforted him, all Bucky could think of was how badly he wished it was Irina’s arms around him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments and kudos :) you're all the very best!!!


	7. VI: Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks! I re-wrote this a few times, struggling to get the tone and dialogue right - I hope you find the end result a worth-while read :)
> 
> ***Also - A WARNING - non-graphic reference to vasectomies and contraception made.***

**21 months later…**

**Avenger’s Compound, New York, U.S.A.**

Bucky stood with his forehead pressed to the tiled wall of the shower, eyes closed and mind a million miles away as the warm water fell over his body.

Twenty-one months…over six hundred days…

And the closest he’d come to catching up to Irina was in Dubrovnik in the early months of his chase, when she’d narrowly escaped the city ahead of him.

He still cursed himself for not being fast enough…

Since then he remained a step or two behind her despite throwing himself wholly into the search for her; until eight months ago when the trail all but evaporated.

The breadcrumbs he’d been able to follow until then were gone. The raids on (formerly) hidden Hydra facilities stopped and his contacts started to come up dry.

It was as though Irina had disappeared from the face of the earth entirely. 

That realization had been the tipping point for him. He faltered, and it was enough for the waves of depression and guilt he’d been holding back to crash down on him.

Everything went to hell after that…

His relationship with Natasha – already in tatters – came to a head when she suggested letting up on their search for Irina.

In retrospect, it wasn’t a bad idea. Lay off of her, maybe let her think they’d given up on their search…

But Bucky hadn’t taken it that way.

Accusations were made, hurtful words were spat, and though Natasha hadn’t come out and said it, Bucky knew she had her suspicions as far as Irina was concerned.

They’d not spoken since then, and he was ashamed by how little it bothered him.

Bucky had pushed nearly everyone else away after that – the one exception being Steve.

Stubborn, devoted Steve…who kept trying when everyone else had lost patience and given up…

But even his presence frustrated Bucky over time.

He didn’t want Steve championing his cause or defending him to the others. He wanted the space and time to search for Irina, nothing more.

So in a move that mortified him even months later, Bucky had confessed everything in the heat of the moment in a desperate bid to repel him.

What Mikhailov made him do…

What had happened with Irina at the hotel…

It had worked for a time.

Steve said nothing, but his disgust and confusion had been palpable. He’d left Bucky’s room in a hurry after the initial shock eased, and Bucky figured that was it – Steve Rogers was done with him.

And despite how well Bucky had prepared himself to receive it, it had hurt.

But two weeks later, Steve was at his door with a new plan to track Irina down.

_‘You’re my best friend, Buck. That isn’t going to change. I’m not going to sit by and let you self-destruct…how I feel doesn’t matter…can’t lose you again…’_

Bucky turned off the showerhead and wrung the water from his hair before stepping out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and made to step out into his bedroom, making a point not to look at himself in the mirror.

He knew he looked like hell.

Shaving hadn’t been a priority, nor had sleep.

He changed into loose sweatpants and a somewhat fresh tee, casting the towel aside to lay forgotten on the floor.

He was going over a crinkled map by the window when there was a knock at the door.

Bucky sighed, ruffling his damp hair as he flipped the map over to look over his notes on the other side.

There was only one person in the compound who still talked to him, so there was no point in asking who was knocking…

“Yeah?”

The door opened and Steve entered.

“You got a second, Buck?”

Bucky glanced at him over his shoulder and saw, much to his surprise, that Steve wasn’t alone.

“Hi, Bucky,” Wanda said with a smile, stepping inside as Steve held the door open for her.

Confused, Bucky set aside the map as Steve shut the door.

He and Wanda had never been close, so pushing her away hadn’t been particularly difficult. She was kind and polite, that never changed, but he thought she’d stopped trying as everyone else had.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyeing Steve suspiciously.

Steve looked to Wanda, who looked surprisingly nervous.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to speak to you about for a while,” she began cautiously, “but I kept thinking better of it and I know we don’t know each other well and –

“What is it, Wanda?” Bucky interjected.

She sighed.

“I…I know,” she admitted quietly, “I know…about you and Irina.”

_W-What?_

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and his gaze snapped to Steve, sharp and lethal.

Steve raised his hands in defence.

“I didn’t say anything, Buck. I wouldn’t. She figured it out herself.”

“How?” he asked in a whisper, his throat too tight to manage much more.

Wanda’s expression was gentle and sympathetic.

“Because…I get it better than most,” she shifted uncomfortably, “I…was closer to my brother than I should have been.”

Whatever Bucky had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

“I…w-what?”

If it was true, how was she admitting it so readily? Where was her shame? Her disgust?

They were acquaintances at best, colleagues. Not…whatever a confession of this magnitude warranted.

“Pietro and I…were very much in love,” she continued, eyes watery, “we shouldn’t have been, we knew that, but we were. When I lost him –

“Stop,” Bucky snapped, raising his hands as if to keep her at bay, “if this is an attempt to shame me into not feeling what I do, forget it. I know.”

Steve’s expression fell and he tried to intervene on Wanda’s behalf, but Bucky didn’t allow him the chance to utter a word.

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” he spat, “every goddamn day I wake up wishing I didn’t feel this way! Every day! I hate myself!”

Steve looked as though he’d been struck.

“Buck –

“They fucking ruined me,” Bucky confessed, his voice shaking as tears welled in his eyes, “Hydra fucking ruined me, and I ruined Irina!”

He’d told himself as much numerous times since Irina vanished, but somehow saying it aloud made it tangible.

_I…I ruined her._

“You didn’t, Bucky,” Wanda soothed, “you –

“Mikhailov ordered me to rape her and I did,” he confessed, “I-I didn’t know she was my daughter, but it doesn’t matter. I still own my actions.”

Steve hung his head.

“I should have protected her, and I’ve failed at every turn,” Bucky mumbled, angrily wiping away his tears, “I hurt her. I used her. And now I can’t even make it right because she’s fucking disappeared!”

In a flash he spun, snatched a dumbbell from the floor and heaved it across the room.

Wanda jumped as it shattered the mirror it connected with.

Steve stepped forward.

“Bucky –

“I love her,” he practically gasped, chest heavying as white-hot agony and panic rocked him.

_Wait…what?_

He’d said it; the words he’d kept buried deep for months on end were out there, hanging in the space between them.

He was in love with Irina.

Despite how wrong it was.

Despite everything he knew that told him it was impossible.

He loved her.

Suddenly sick to his stomach, Bucky stammered, desperate to think of a way to explain away his confession.

But there wasn’t one, because it hadn’t been a lie.

_Oh…oh my god…_

“Stevie, what the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked, his voice a strained plea.

“Nothing,” Wanda said firmly, pushing past Steve to approach Bucky.

Steve made to caution her.

“Wanda -

But she’d already grabbed Bucky’s arms.

“James Buchanan Barnes, look at me,” Wanda ordered, repeating herself when he didn’t.

When he finally acquiesced, she continued.

“They pushed you together, Bucky. What would have happened if you hadn’t raped her?”

Bucky swallowed hard, chin quivering as he fought to regain his composure.

“He…Mikhailov said he’d let his men have her.”

“You spared her that.”

“By raping her first,” he scoffed, “why didn’t I fight back? Why didn’t I get her out of there?”

“You’d been tortured for decades, Bucky,” Steve said gently, “’escape’ was probably not even on your radar.”

“It should have been,” he snarled, “for her. I should have been stronger for her.”

“Bucky –

“I shouldn’t feel this,” he lamented, shaking.

“Maybe not,” Wanda admitted, “but Hydra pushed you together. Bucky you didn’t know who you were to each other, it’s not your fault you both developed feelings for the other along the way.”

_Maybe…._

But it was something he didn’t have the heart to concede aloud.

He bit his bit hard to keep it from slipping out; and ran his fingers through his hair.

_I love her._

It was wrong, but if he allowed himself to overlook their relation and focus on what he felt, it felt right.

It felt real.

He wanted her back in his arms, to hold and kiss her again…

He wanted to treat her as she deserved, how he should have that night at the hotel…

He wanted a chance to make things right between them, to keep her safe…

Fuck, he wanted _her_.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Wanda soothed.

His gaze shot back to her and his expression soured.

“Stay out of my head,” he seethed, fists clenched at his sides.

But Wanda remained calm.

“I do not need to look into your head to know that you want a real chance with her, Bucky. You wouldn’t be so hurt, so guilty and ashamed, otherwise.”

He pursed his lips and tried to remain stoic, but he didn’t have it in him to fight back the tears anymore.

“She’s gone,” he shrugged, defeated, “I don’t know where else to look, I…”

He let out a shaky breath.

On so many levels, Bucky was exhausted.

He’d spent the better part of the past six hundred days on the road, chasing one flimsy lead after another; squeezing each contact he had until they were dry. He hadn’t allowed himself time to rest – he’d replenish his supplies, maybe touch base with Steve or Tony, then head back out.

If he were being honest, in the last twenty-one months he’d aged more than he had in the last seventy years.

There were more greys in his beard, and the dark bags under his eyes seemed a new, permanent feature on his face. The lines on his forehead and around his eyes seemed deeper, darker, and somehow the body aches of age seemed to have caught up to him.

It saddened him to think that if Irina saw him now, as he was, she’d not recognize him…

“The truth is…there are a lot of places I haven’t looked yet, but she could have backtracked to a country I previously cleared. She…she could be dead.”

His voice cracked at _that_ word.

Dead.

Irina could be dead.

Cold and forgotten in a corner of the world he could never reach…

Nameless, buried in an unmarked grave with only a serial number to etch her presence in the world…

He choked on a sob and staggered back to his maps, shaken and spent.

He could search for another six hundred days and not get any closer to actually finding her…

Steve and Wanda followed, each looking over the maps he’d left strewn about.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a solid lead on her?” Steve asked, looking over the map of Asia that Bucky had scrawled notes over.

Each major city had a date range next to it, signifying the time he spent there. Other notes, such as potential leads or discoveries of raided Hydra basis were also present.

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eight months without any sign of her...”

“There’s still a lot to check out,” Steve observed, “half of America…about seventy-five percent of Canada…”

“And Greenland and Iceland,” Wanda added, glancing up to them, “you never know…”

They weren’t wrong.

He’d made a hell of a dent, largely by himself, but there was still so much more to cover…

But as he looked over the maps and ran through the confusing mess of emotions tearing through him, one thing was abundantly clear.

If Irina was alive – and he was desperately holding to the belief that she was – she didn’t want to be found.

And that was on him.

“She doesn’t want me to find her,” he whispered, chest tightening as the words left his lips.

He tried to imagine never seeing her again, never knowing what came of her, and his heart ached and plummeted into his stomach.

“So don’t try to find her,” Steve proposed, “Wanda and I can try to pick up her trail, visit some of the areas you haven’t.”

He looked to Steve; not sure he’d heard him correctly.

“You’d…you’d do that?”

He knew as supportive as Steve was being, he still had his qualms about the whole thing.

Who wouldn’t?

Asking him to step so far from his comfort zone and what he knew to be right and wrong…it felt selfish.

“Yes,” Wanda answered, sifting through the maps, “it’s what we came to suggest.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say.

‘Thank you’ seemed insufficient but also too hopeful.

“What about me?” Bucky asked meekly.

“See if any of your contacts have heard anything,” Steve offered, “and sit tight.”

Bucky frowned.

Irina might not want him to find her but leaving everything to Steve and Wanda felt wrong, like a cop-out.

“But –

“You need to take care of yourself, Buck,” Steve said firmly, grasping his shoulder, “you’ve spread yourself too thin. Please.”

He was about to argue Steve, but Wanda interjected.

“Trust us with this, Bucky. You’ve been going non-stop for months, it’s okay to take some time to take care of yourself. Irina wouldn’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

He wasn’t so sure about that but sighed, relenting if only because he just didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.

“Hang in there a bit longer, Buck,” Steve bid him, “we’ve got this.”

Bucky blinked back his tears and quickly nodded, eager to believe Steve despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him it was hopeless.

Twenty-one months…

Over six hundred days…

He could make it a bit longer.

Just a bit longer…

* * *

**2 months later…**

**Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada.**

Irina paid her bill and accepted the store clerks’ offer of help to get her order of canvases out to her SUV. They made polite small talk as they crossed the parking lot, gushing about the beautiful weather.

It was one of the first things she learned about Canadians upon moving north of the border – it didn’t matter how well you knew someone; you could always talk about the weather.

She thanked the young man as he carefully packed the canvases in the back of her SUV, rounding the vehicle to pack the bags she carried in the rear seat. Once everything was secure, she hopped into the front seat, tossing her purse beside her and sighing in contentment when she turned the key and the A/C hit her.

She’d been a bit naïve when she’d first bought her house and made the move to Cape Breton Island seven months ago, assuming falsely that Canadian summers wouldn’t be too bad. She’d made her through her first Canadian winter – surely the summer would be a piece of cake?

Mother Nature had since humbled her.

She tugged on the neck of her tank top to fan cool air down as the light at the intersection turned green and she pulled out.

It was strange. In the almost two years since she’d left the Avenger’s compound, she’d been almost everywhere. She’d hopped from one city to the next, seen more than she’d thought possible after a lifetime of confinement, and the place she felt most comfortable was so close to where her journey had begun.

Nova Scotia was gorgeous. Between the picturesque coastlines, quirky heritage buildings, and historic sites, damn near every inch she’d seen of the province was post-card worthy.

Maybe it was the salt in the air coming off the ocean but breathing felt easier here.

And after feeling as though she was going to suffocate for so long, it meant more than she could ever put into words.

Irina slowed down for a minivan trying to change lanes, returning the small wave the driver gave her in thanks.

She smiled.

Life was easier, simpler.

Thanks to the Hydra bases she’d raided in the early months of her exile; she had a comfortable nest-egg of money to do with as she liked.

Compensation, she liked to think of it, for decades of abuse.

She had them to thank for the old lake house she was currently renovating, and the reliable – though not flashy – SUV she drove. She invested a good portion of the funds, too; all in local businesses.

Her small way of paying it forward to the community that gave her a taste of peace for the first time in her life.

But as content as she was in her day-to-day, she often thought of what she’d left behind.

The purpose and chance for friends and family the compound offered…

Bucky.

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited for the light to turn green.

It still hurt just as badly as it did in the beginning, if she was being honest. She missed him fiercely and thought of him often, usually when she was doing the most mundane of things.

Eating breakfast, walking her dogs, working on her lake house’s never-ending list of renovations, grocery shopping…everything conjured up thoughts of him.

Was he taking care of himself? Were he and Nat happy? Had he moved on, forgiven himself? What had he been doing when she was learning how to fish? When she’d made her sad attempt at a garden along the front porch of her house?

Did he ever touch himself to the memory of her, as she did of him? Did he ever groan her name when he stroked himself to completion?

She bit her lip.

Each time her fingers crept between her legs, late at night when her thoughts lingered on him and she couldn’t keep the tears at bay, she’d think of him. She’d try to remember bliss his calloused fingers easily pulled from her…the perfect, dizzying fullness of his cock sliding inside of her…

How full her heart felt when they’d fallen asleep next to each other…

Irina sighed heavily.

She’d not caught a glimpse of him in nearly a year and there had been no close calls since Dubrovnik…surely he’d returned to his life? Moved on?

_Hopefully._

Maybe there was still a bit of anger there, on her part, but she really did want him to be happy, to find peace and purpose.

Loving someone meant wishing happiness for them – always – even if it meant not being with them to enjoy it.

And, damnit, Irina still loved him.

The light turned green.

She’d tried once, about six months ago, to date. He’d been nice, charming…but nothing he said or did drew her in or made her heart race…

It didn’t feel right – like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place - like it had with Bucky.

So she’d let him down gently and had not bothered to try since.

She had her house, her artwork, and her dogs to keep her busy. She wasn’t blind to her luck – she had more than some. And maybe she’d remain alone, but was there another option when she loved the one person she shouldn’t?

_No, not really…_

The drive out of town was peaceful and winding. She kept an eye out on the sides of the road as always, mindful it was unfortunately commonplace for unwanted pets to be abandoned there.

It was how she’d come to have two dogs of her own.

Nothing caught her eye – a small blessing - so she continued on through the woods.

Her driveway was off a hidden sideroad but the second it came into view she knew something was amiss. She’d been gone a few hours, more than enough time for the tracks from her SUV to dry in the soft mud. Only atop those tracks were fresh, sloppy tracks from a larger vehicle.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

_What the fuck…_

While she suspected Hydra or anyone else eager to see her harmed would use more tact, it made her uneasy. She did have a few neighbors that were close, but the nearest one – Ms. Carmichael – drove a sedan and was close enough to walk over.

Whoever was on her property, it wasn’t Ms. Carmichael delivering some of her baked goods.

She eased her SUV slowly down the winding path, reaching over to the glovebox to grab her loaded Glock. She flicked off the safety without tearing her gaze from the path.

The cute blue lake house she called home came into view through the tangle of oak and evergreens.

A truck sat in the curve of the circular gravel driveway, preventing her from easily turning her SUV around. Not that she would – Beau and Sampson were inside.

It’d be a cold day in hell when she bolted without her dogs.

But as that thought crossed her mind, she saw who was sitting on her front porch.

_What…the…fuck…_

Groaning, she pulled up behind the truck and parked, putting the safety back on her Glock before tucking it back in the glovebox.

She grabbed her purse, quickly making eye contact with the trespassers before hopping out of her SUV.

Wanda stood as Irina shut her car door, clasping her hands together over her mouth as she eyed her in disbelief.

“My god,” Wanda mumbled into her clasped hands, “Irina!”

Irina managed a tight smile, fumbling with her keys before looking up to greet Steve, who remained silent from his spot on the front steps.

“Maximoff…Rogers.”

He slowly stood, smiling but clearly as shaken as Wanda.

“Irina, fuck it’s good to see you.”

She snorted in amusement.

“A lot must have changed in two years if you’re swearing, Steve.”

“Well, it’s been a long two years.”

She couldn’t argue him on that.

Sighing, she grabbed her bags from the backseat, locked up, and started up the steps between the two.

“You might as well come in,” she mumbled, “I’m guessing you want to talk.”

“If that’s okay,” Wanda said, following her.

“Not giving me much choice, showing up like this,” Irina grumbled, a bit sharper than she’d meant to.

She opened the door, and the boys barked and scurried towards them, skidding across the hardwood floor.

“Brace yourselves,” she said with a grimace.

Irina barely managed to drop her bags before Beau – her bluetick coonhound – jumped up and bonked her on the chin as he began his excited hop-dance.

“F-Fuck, Beau!”

He bayed, ears flopping up and down as he jumped.

“I wasn’t gone that long, you idiot,” she laughed, trying to urge the hound down, “and have you forgotten your training already? No jumping! It’s rude!”

He relented, but only to begin the same dance with Steve.

Sampson, her rottweiler, was a bit more reserved…but not by much.

She took it as a victory though – not long-ago Sampson’s excited dash towards her when she’d gotten home from grocery shopping had sent her flying.

“You two are supposed to guard the house,” she scolded, half-heartedly, as she hurriedly deactivated the security alarm, “earn your keep.”

Wanda found the sweet spot on Sampson’s rump and the big lug flopped over to show her his stomach.

Irina rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, boys.”

Dogs momentarily distracted, Irina grabbed her bags and carried them into the living room.

“So,” she called out, setting her bags more carefully on the couch, “what brings you two to my neck of the woods?”

A dumb question, really, but she was okay with playing dumb if it delayed the onslaught on questions she suspected them to have.

Steve tried to step around Beau, only for the hound to follow him.

“Bucky’s been trying to find you for almost two years.”

“How did you find me?” she asked, sidestepping _his_ name.

“We’d been travelling across Canada, checking leads Friday and Fury forwarded us for a few weeks when he found a large investment that seemed to come from nowhere to save a local business…it made the local paper.”

_Fuck…_

“Wanda figured you’d probably settled down, given how much time had passed, and might choose a place closer to the compound than we’d think.”

_Over a fifteen-hundred kilometers away but okay…_

“A lucky guess,” Wanda added, finally stepping away from the attention-starved rottweiler at her feet, “Bucky did most of the legwork. We just looked at it with fresh eyes.”

Irina swallowed hard, anxiety rising.

They both no doubt were aware of it.

“I’m surprised he’s not with you,” Irina commented, “though I suppose you’ve told him where I am.”

Why wouldn’t they have?

“Should we not?” Steve asked, watching her closely.

Irina shrugged.

“I’ve been on the run, avoiding him, for two years,” she huffed, “if I had anything to say to him, I’d have let him catch up to me any of the dozen or so times I’ve seen him in that time.”

Again, it was sharper than she meant, but her irritation was becoming difficult to stifle.

Hadn’t they read her note? She wanted to be left alone. ‘Why’ shouldn’t matter if they had a shred of respect for her.

Wanda’s expression fell.

“Irina –

“I’m not going back, if that’s what this is about,” she said evenly, “I’m content here. I’m trying to build a life here.”

Steve’s expression mirrored Wanda’s.

“And I’m not hurting anyone,” Irina added, “so what can I do for you before you get on your way?”

Steve sighed, sharing a look with Wanda before stepping forward.

He hadn’t said anything, but something in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

And the drained from her face in an instant.

_Fuck…_

She laughed.

“What the fuck was he thinking, tell you?” she snapped, chuckling still as it sunk in, “Jesus Christ, Bucky…”

She rubbed her face. The house’s A/C had dried her sweat and cooled her skin, but she told herself the moisture she wiped away was sweat and not tears.

“He’s not in a good way, Irina,” Steve said gently, “we’re scared for him. It’s why we’re here.”

Irina bit her lip and nodded but said nothing.

What was there to say?

They knew…

Bile rose in her throat.

“What happened between you…it doesn’t matter,” Steve continued, “if we didn’t find you, I figured we’d lose Bucky…it was an easy decision to make, an easy thing to get over…”

Irina snorted.

“Easy?” she shook her head, looking up in an attempt to dam her tears, “was it?”

“Steve isn’t here to judge, Irina,” Wanda soothed, “neither am I.”

Irina’s chest tightened and she glared at them.

“What would you choose?” she asked, eyeing Wanda, “to be gang-raped by six men or fucked by one?”

Wanda swallowed hard but said nothing.

Steve hung his head.

Irina’s gaze snapped to him.

“How does someone make that decision?” she breathed, shaking, “tell me the truth, what should we have done, Steve?”

He looked up to her, and his eyes were a flurry of conflict.

“Faced with that, I don’t fault either of you,” he admitted, “that’s the truth, Irina.”

She licked her lips and nodded.

“Kind of you…”

“Irina –

“I didn’t know he was my father,” she interrupted, shrugging, “he was just the guy who trained me. Then he was the guy keeping me from being tossed to the vultures like…like…like I was nothing.”

Her chin quivered and tears cascaded down her cheeks.

“I…I didn’t mean to fall in love with him,” she whispered, as though in confession, “but when they woke me from cryo, and he wasn’t there…I lost it. I searched for him without thinking if it was the right thing to do…”

“And you found him with us, with Natasha,” Wanda finished, eyeing her sadly.

Irina nodded.

“I meant to leave before he remembered…”

Steve nodded slowly; jaw clenched tight.

“He…he told me about the hotel…”

Irina choked on a sob, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle it but failing.

She looked down, trying to compose herself, and Beau wandered over to her.

He sat down at her feet, nudging her free hand with his nose until she rested it on his head.

Sampson lumbered over to join him.

“I don’t hate Natasha,” she mumbled, slowly lowering her hand from her mouth, “I’ve wished I could be her…but I don’t hate her…”

She took a steadying breath.

“I hate myself for my role in hurting her. I really did want them to be happy. I swear. I meant to leave…it…it just happened and I…”

She shook her head, at a loss for words and certain each sad attempt she made to explain it she lost more and more of their respect.

If she even had it to begin with.

“Everything I know tells me its wrong…you two,” Steve said solemnly, capturing both of their focus, “I certainly shouldn’t encourage it, even if I can’t fault either of you for why it started back then…”

Irina hung her head, trying to brace herself for what she knew was to come.

“Natasha is my friend,” he added quietly, sighing.

“I know,” Irina muttered, “I…I wanted to just slip away before anyone found out or got hurt and I…I fucked up…”

There was a moment of tense silence, punctuated only by Irina’s sniffles and the low whines of the dogs.

Steve broke it.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but it’s not all on you.”

It was an alarmingly level-headed declaration, even for Steve. Surely if anything warranted Captain America losing his cool, this was it.

“The fact of the matter is,” Steve continued, taking a deep breath, “I lost Bucky in ’44 and it hurt more than when I was given the serum. Then I found him again in 2014 only to lose him again…”

Wanda lightly touched his arm and he didn’t shake off her hand.

“I don’t want to lose him now,” he said with a sad smirk, giving a short laugh, “and I feel like I’m going to…”

“How do you mean?” Irina asked, rubbing Beau’s ears as she watched Steve expectantly.

But he remained tight-lipped.

It was then she realized how watery his eyes were…

“Steve…I don’t mean to go back and try to force myself back in his life…”

“It’s not that, Irina,” Wanda soothed, eyeing Steve.

Worry and not disgust had Irina’s stomach churning.

“Bucky…he’s safe, right?”

It wasn’t something she’d really worried about. He’d given finding her a commendable effort, dedicating two years of his life to appeasing whatever he felt he owed her…surely he’d gone back to the life he’d known before her?

Pool nights, missions and frantic-fuck-fests with Natasha – what more was there?

She looked to Wanda when Steve remained silent.

Wanda sighed.

“He’s depressed,” she explained, “it’s really bad, Irina.”

Irina didn’t understand.

“W-What? Why?”

“He loves you,” Steve whispered.

Irina laughed; she couldn’t help it.

“He doesn’t,” she assured them, shaking her head at the absurdity of it.

“He does,” Steve said, firmer this time, “he and Natasha broke up about ten months ago…”

“They probably should have split up before then,” Wanda added, “they hadn’t been well for a long time…”

Irina wasn’t sure how to process what she was hearing. She’d never – not once in two years – wondered if they were no longer together.

He loved her!

What…what had happened?

“Fuck,” Irina rubbed her face, “what the fuck…”

“He’s hurt,” Steve said sadly, “and depressed…and in love with you.”

Irina made to counter him, but Wanda interrupted.

“Just…let us bring him out here. Talk…try to figure out a way to make amends…”

It sounded like a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

“Wanda…”

“Do you love him?” she asked, eyeing her knowingly, “do you still love him?”

Irina’s shoulders slumped forward.

_Yes._

“Then try,” Wanda pleaded, “please, Irina. We wouldn’t risk disrupting your life if our worries for Bucky weren’t real.”

She wanted to scold the Sokovian for peeking in her head but thought better of it. Wanda had a good point after all – they likely wouldn’t be here now if they felt they had any other option.

If not out of respect for her, then out of repulsion for what she’d had with Bucky.

“We’re not repulsed, Irina,” Wanda said gently, offering her a small smile.

“It’s rude to look in people’s heads, Wanda,” she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

“We’re not repulsed,” Steve echoed, much to Irina’s surprise.

“Really?” she asked, brow arched as she regarded him.

“I don’t want to lose my friend, Irina. I’d do anything to prevent that. The rest…well, just…just give me time.”

Beau and Sampson nuzzled against her legs, with the rottweiler flopping down on her feet with a dramatic sigh.

_A hundred-and-twenty-pound drama queen…_

The last thing Irina wanted was for Bucky to get hurt. She thought leaving – though it might hurt initially – would end up helping them both move on.

Apparently he hadn’t.

But had she?

She glanced around the living room and realized that maybe she had…at least a little bit…

_But one half-hearted attempt to date isn’t a hell of a lot of progress…_

She thought of saying no; just for a split second, but it crossed her mind, nonetheless.

The idea of tearing open old, poorly healed wounds…

She barely survived them the first time around.

But…if he really was as bad as Steve and Wanda feared…

Then maybe Bucky needed her?

She’d been in a dark place those first few months, when all she could think to do was jump from one Hydra bunker to the next, killing indiscriminately.

If Bucky was in a similar place…could she live with turning him away?

“Okay,” she said with a nod, “you can bring him out here for a couple days…we can talk and…try to figure things out. I can’t promise more than that.”

Steve let out a breath she suspected he’d been holding for some time, his relief palpable. She saw the tension leave his shoulders, a tremor shake him, and she knew then that his fear had been very real.

“Thank you…fuck, you’ve got no idea, Irina…thank you…”

She smiled and stepped over the dogs to comfort him.

Her embrace startled him, but he composed himself quickly enough, warmly returning it.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she muttered, “and for not hating us.”

He shook his head.

“That was never gonna happen…”

* * *

Irina loaded the dirty plates into the dishwasher, got it running, and gripped the counter as she tried to process all that had happened in the span of a few hours.

Wanda had opted to stay while Steve headed back to the compound to get Bucky, and while Irina had initially been put-off by the arrangement– thinking the Sokovian suspected she’d run – she realized it was rather nice having someone else around.

Most days Beau and Sampson were company enough, but it was nice to have the option to talk to someone, even if she didn’t plan on taking it.

“Can I help with anything?” Wanda asked, stepping inside from the deck that overlooked the lake.

The sun was setting, and the few clouds in the sky were dark against the light, blue-yellow sky.

It was a sight she savored most nights, but tonight her mind was preoccupied on what the next day would bring.

Steve would be back by early afternoon, having planned on utilizing the quinjet to speed up his return, which meant in less than twenty-four hours she’d see the man she’d spent two years avoiding…

It was a hell of a thing to process.

Irina smiled to Wanda and shook her head.

“I’m all good here, thanks.”

She stepped over a snoring Beau to get both boys treat from the jar she had near the fridge, chuckling when the sound of it opening was enough to wake the slumbering canine.

“So predictable,” she muttered, signalling both to sit nicely before giving them their treats.

“You’re happy out here,” Wanda said with a smirk, watching both dogs retreat to their beds by the fireplace, “I’m glad you found this place.”

“Me too,” Irina admitted, “it’s peaceful.”

“You’re not afraid of Hydra finding you?”

“No,” she said after a moment to consider it, “when I hit their bunkers, I hit them hard. I killed a lot of their agents…lost count at one point. I’m not saying they might not come for me one day, but I refuse to live my life in fear. I fought hard for this.”

She was as prepared for that reality as she could be. The lake house was almost entirely off the grid – having solar panels and water basins already installed and plans for more security cameras and monitoring equipment in the works. Guns were hidden throughout the home, in hidden compartments concealed by paintings and floorboards.

Beau and Sampson were meant to be another line of protection but, well…they were both better equipped to hold down their dog beds than alert her to potential intruders.

“When Steve and I go back to the compound, we’ll talk to Tony, see about getting Friday’s reach extended out here,” Wanda said, resolute, “we won’t tell him about…you know. But you should be safe.”

Irina looked to her in surprise.

Despite the measures she had taken, the offer wasn’t one she could turn down.

“I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Irina. I-I…”

Wanda sighed, leaning against the couch as she seemed to consider something.

“I stayed behind to tell you something,” she swallowed hard, looking down at her feet as she kicked at the tassel of the living room rug, “feels strange now, though…”

“What does?”

“Admitting it to someone who could _get_ it,” she smirked, “when I told Bucky two months ago…he was still so torn about how he felt; we didn’t discuss it much…”

Irina arched her brow, confused but intrigued as to what she could be referring to.

Finally, Wanda found her words.

“I…loved my brother…like you love your father.”

The room was silent save the boys’ gnawing at their treats.

_O-Oh…oh…_

Her mind caught up to what she’d heard.

“You…and Pietro? Your twin?”

Wanda nodded and her eyes welled.

It seemed hard to believe that standing before her was someone who could understand so perfectly.

“I…don’t know what to say,” Irina muttered, breathless.

Wanda gave a forced smile and shrugged.

“We both knew it was wrong, but we were careful.”

“Careful?”

“He and I, we chose to be together,” Wanda explained, “but any children we might have…they couldn’t chose it, only bare it. So we…we found a doctor to…to ‘snip’ him.”

_O-Oh…_

It embarrassed her now, to look back and realize how many times Bucky had taken her without protection…

Because as much as it might pain her to admit it, Wanda was right.

She could have Bucky or have children of her own, not both.

Not that it was an issue for her now. Bucky might be coming to talk to her, but she had no illusions about where they stood.

She couldn’t afford to.

And to have children by anyone else…

It didn’t appeal to her much.

“That had to have been a hard decision.”

“It was,” Wanda affirmed, “but with that taken out of the picture…it was also easier.”

“How so?”

Wanda smiled and Irina saw a glimmer of fondness in her sad eyes.

“We were just two consenting adults, in love despite everything telling us it was wrong,” her smile became watery, “not hurting anyone.”

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Irina didn’t know what to say.

Was it that simple? That easy to justify?

If she squinted when she looked at it that way…would it be clearer? Less muddled by morals and mixed emotions?

That stubborn, hopeful part of her that still longed to be with Bucky screamed ‘yes’. But that was a dangerous part of her. It was the part that urged her to side-step her fears of reopening old wounds to dive head-first into it.

If she blocked out that part, Irina wasn’t so sure.

Irina stammered a moment, trying to find her voice as she wrestled with all the questions Wanda had inadvertently raised.

“Did you…did you ever think something was wrong with you? Like…maybe something wasn’t wired right in your head?”

“All the time,” Wanda said in a single, shaky breath, “we were all each other had. Getting close…too close…it just happened. You and Bucky were pushed together to survive…its no one’s fault you fell for each other somewhere along the way; especially given that neither of you knew you were related.”

Irina sighed.

“It’s easy to blame a dead man, though,” she said sadly, “did…did the questions ever stop? The doubt? Two years ago…in that hotel room…I had fewer doubts. I loved him. The consequences didn’t matter; it…it felt right.”

Wanda frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make this more confusing for you, just to let you know you’re not alone. Just…talk to him. Two years ago, in that hotel room, what he felt and remembered…it had to scare the shit out of him.”

That, Irina didn’t doubt.

Wanda squeezed her hand and gave her a sympathetic look, heading past her for the stairs.

Irina had prepared the guestroom earlier for her and while it was one of the rooms she had yet to renovate, it had been drywalled and she’d pinned up a sheet over the window to act as a curtain.

It wasn’t fancy, but for the night it would do.

Wanda paused on the first step, glancing back at Irina.

“And the doubt does fade, Irina. Just…be open and honest with him. I lost Pietro and it hurts everyday…I don’t want you to lose Bucky.”

They shared a smile, and Wanda continued up the stairs.

Irina remained downstairs, going about her nighttime routine of closing and locking up the house. She collapsed on the couch once it was all done, her head in her hands, smiling despite it all when Beau and Sampson lazily climbed up to sit on either side of her.

They settled effortlessly – Beau spread out on his back with his paws in the air, and Sampson curled up in a tight ball - and were snoring again in less than five minutes.

Sleep didn’t come so easily for Irina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It goes without saying this is entirely a work of fiction and that I DO NOT condone incest. Wanda was written this way to give Irina perspective and her dialogue/beliefs are not necessarily my own.
> 
> THIS AIN'T REAL, FOLKS! IT'S A STORY!
> 
> I hope my choice to write Steve as I did makes sense as well. He's not blindly accepting of what happened, but is trying to come to terms with it if only to ensure he doesn't lose Bucky for a third (and potentially final) time. I hope that comes across well enough in this chapter.
> 
> My goal is to give Irina and Bucky consequences for their actions, as I felt making everything rainbows and sunshine wouldn't be realistic or enjoyable to read.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! :)


	8. VII: Reunite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky catches up to Irina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I'm still here! Yay!
> 
> I am so, soo sorry for the delay! Omg, I did NOT expect an update to take this long! I rewrote this 3 times, folks! THREE! As it stands, this part was actually over 30 pages and 10k words, so I had to chop it in two to make it more readable...and tease you all with a cliff hanger ;) I hope it is everything you were all wishing for!
> 
> ***PLEASE READ NOTE AT THE BOTTOM FOR AN AUTHOR'S NOTE :)

**Avenger’s Compound, New York, U.S.A.**

Bucky grimaced as his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the bench in the locker room.

_I’m getting to old for this shit…_

He gritted his teeth and leaned back awkwardly in an attempt to relieve the pain in his thighs, only to irritate the pinched nerve in the small of his back.

He hissed and took a deep breath to try to steady himself, desperate to push the pain to the back of his mind.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck…_

His body was telling him to slow down, to allow himself time to rest and recover, but he couldn’t afford to listen to it.

Slowing down would let thoughts of _her_ return to the forefront of his mind…a dangerous prospect.

_‘Just a bit longer…’_

He’d told himself he could make it.

And, damnit, he’d really tried.

But there had come a time when he couldn’t delude himself further and he’d stopped looking at the maps…

Irina wasn’t in his life – it was the reality he had to accept.

Nothing felt right afterwards though.

His friends felt distant, the walls of his room felt uncomfortably close, and everywhere he went in the compound he was hit with memories of _her_ …

It was suffocating.

And the only thing that eased the weight from his chest was going back to what he’d known for decades – fighting.

He took one mission after the other, not allowing himself more than twenty-four hours to catch his breath before heading out again.

It worked well enough.

The week he’d just spent in Berlin with Sam and Clint chasing leads on Hydra activity in the area had provided him with the adrenaline he needed to forget, but it was a high that always faded.

He tugged off his gloves and let them fall to the floor, pursing his lips to stifle a groan as he tried to rub an ache from his hand. It hurt more than he was expecting, and he gingerly turned his hand over, only to discover an angry bruise from his knuckles down past his wrist.

_Well, fuck…_

He knew from experience he’d likely fractured his wrist.

An inconvenience more than anything, given the serum, but it still hurt like a bitch.

He sighed heavily, cradling his aching hand close to his body and relying on his metal hand to work loose the buckles of his gear.

Somewhere deep down, he knew he was relying too heavily on the serum to keep himself going, to the point of recklessness. Whereas before his every action on a mission was calculated and precise, now he blindly threw himself into every brawl, truly not caring what the outcome was.

_Fuck…I’m pre-serum Steve…_

An unsettling thought, but one easily dismissed when a new, sharp pain across his back left him breathless.

_Yeah…too fucking old for this shit…_

He was in the process of unlacing his boots, when Steve hurried into the locker room.

“Buck,” Steve stopped mid-stride, “Jesus, what happened?”

He shrugged.

_Guess I look as good as I feel…_

His fingers were dirty with soot and grime and he could only assume the rest of him was as well. His greasy, long hair was half pulled back in a sloppy bun and his beard was longer than he ever recalled letting it get.

If he thought there was a chance Irina wouldn’t recognize him two months ago, there was no way she would now.

“Has medical taken a look at you?”

Bucky shook his head.

“I’ll be fine come morning,” he dismissed, focus remaining on his stubborn laces.

“Bucky –

“I’m fine, Steve,” he snapped, glancing up at him, “what’s up?”

He realized Steve was suited up, his shield secured to his back.

It piqued his interest.

Since throwing himself into the foolish pursuit of Irina, Steve hadn’t donned his uniform. But as Bucky thought on that, he realized he couldn’t really be sure.

He hadn’t seen much of Steve in the last four weeks.

“Was going to ask if you were free to join me on something,” Steve said with a heavy sigh, “possible Hydra activity, might be connected to what you found in Berlin with Sam and Clint.”

Bucky nodded.

He tied up his boots as quickly as he could muster and stood, his movements slowed by the pulsing, sharp pain in his back.

It didn’t matter ‘what’, only that there was another mission – another chance for adrenaline to numb the pain to a bearable level…

_Just a bit longer…_

* * *

_The sheets were damp with their sweat and the smell of sex was thick in the air._

_But he didn’t care._

_He couldn’t tear his gaze from her._

_Irina had collapsed in the middle of the bed on her stomach, a dopey smile of pure contentment on her lips that slowly faded as sleep claimed her._

_Bucky watched her closely, propped up on his elbow beside her with his flesh hand on the small of her back._

_He’d lost track of the number of times he’d taken her, but if he were being honest, he’d have her again if his body would only cooperate._

_He lazily ran his hand up her back, savoring the curves of her body before gently brushing her hair aside._

_Her neck was a motley array of love-bites and as his gaze travelled back down her prone form, he realized they weren’t the only marks he’d left on her. Bruises marred her hips and thighs and there were scratches down her back, some severe enough to draw blood._

_He slipped his hand between her legs._

_Irina groaned and wiggled under his touch._

_He shushed her as he ran his thumb down her tender folds and parted her._

_She was red, slick, and undoubtedly sore, and he berated himself inwardly for being so desperate and rough with her._

_“Oh, baby…”_

_She was sweet perfection, deserving of all the tenderness he could muster…and he’d fucked her like a man possessed…_

_He didn’t deserve her, not even remotely._

_“Hmm, Bucky…”_

_She’d managed to open her eyes and was biting her kiss-swollen bottom lip as she regarded him with dark, needy eyes._

_Bucky pressed a kiss to her shoulder, though his fingers remained between her legs._

_“Sore, dorogaya?”_

_She whined and nodded but arched up her hips to press into his touch._

_He should let her sleep; he knew that deep down._

_But in a couple of hours, they’d both have to be up and ready to walk away from each other…and, damnit, he was greedy for every bit of her he could have until then._

_“Irina…”_

_He wanted to stay with her, right there as they were._

_Or…or maybe they could run away together._

_They could kill Mikhailov and find a quiet corner of the world to make a life together in…_

_They could make love in the early morning hours…have breakfast in bed and shower together…he could take her on dinner dates and spoil her with flowers and –_

_It was a pretty picture; one he knew all too well he had no claim to…_

_A fool’s hope._

_Irina licked her lips._

_“B-Bucky…”_

_He sighed, smiling sadly, but slipped a finger gingerly into her before withdrawing to slowly drag it up and down her slit._

_Irina whined his name._

_“Still so wet,” he breathed, pressing himself against her, “fuck, baby…”_

_A shiver rolled over her body and she rocked her hips._

_“You dripping with my cum, baby?” he asked in a whisper, “such a good girl…taking my cock so many times…”_

_Irina whimpered, shifting so she was propped up on her elbows._

_She looked at him and her expression was so debauched it sent a jolt of white-hot desire straight to his groin._

_“So beautiful…”_

_She really was._

_Her hazel eyes were big and doe-like, lined with long, dark lashes. Her long brown hair was damp with sweat, brushed over her shoulders in a tangled mess that would certainly give her a hard time come morning._

_Her skin was pale, marred only by the bites and bruises he gave her and a generous dusting of freckles…_

_Perfection._

_Irina spread her legs and lifted her hips, chasing the friction his fingers offered._

_“M-More…please…”_

_It was a tempting plea to indulge._

_But he’d already reduced her to a tender, pliant mess…anymore and he’d undoubtedly hurt her._

_Not that he hadn’t already._

_She saw the hesitation in his eyes._

_“Please,” she breathed, “I want to know every bit of you…so I never forget…”_

_Her words broke his heart._

_He quickened his pace, slipping his metal arm under her to hug her close._

_“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he muttered into her hair as he held her trembling form, “I don’t deserve you, Irina…”_

_She gasped and held onto his shoulders as she shook, another orgasm just a breath away._

_“Y-You have m-me,” she keened, “y-yours…I’m all y-yours!”_

_He swallowed the sob that threatened to leave him and tightened his hold on her, basking in the simpering sounds she made until she came with a wanton cry, soaking his fingers._

_When she was limp and gasping, he shifted her atop him and rubbed her back as her shaky breathing slowly evened out._

_“I…love you,” she managed, kissing his chest, “I love…love you s-so much.”_

_He believed her, but instead of speaking the truth – that he loved her just as fiercely – he shushed her._

_Irina dozed off and he raked his fingers through her hair, gently freeing it of tangles._

* * *

A sudden jerk of the quinjet jarred Bucky awake.

“Sorry about that,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky righted himself, having slipped down the seat a bit in his sleep. He rubbed his face and looked to the monitors on the console before him.

“Where are we headed anyway?” he asked, trying to make sense of what he was looking at.

“Nova Scotia,” Steve said, moving to correct their descent, “Cape Breton Island.”

Bucky looked to him; brow furrowed in confusion.

“What the hell is Hydra doing in Canada?”

Steve gave a small, poorly concealed smirk.

“Nothing.”

“What?” Bucky snapped, irritated, “then why are we here?”

He glanced around them and spotted something he hadn’t upon boarding – his long-neglected gym bag and backpack, both seemingly stuffed, sitting on the bench toward the back of the quinjet.

He turned to Steve.

“Steve, what –

“If I’d told you, you’d have put up a fuss getting on the quinjet,” Steve reasoned, “we’re going to see Irina.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he regarded Steve with a mix of confusion and downright panic.

_W-What?_

Seven-hundred days.

Irina had been gone for seven-hundred days.

She wasn’t in Nova Scotia.

She was hidden away somewhere utterly unreachable or…or dead.

Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed hard, chest pinched tight.

His life…it didn’t have her in it anymore.

That was the new reality he had to accept.

To consider otherwise…

“Buck?” Steve gave control to Friday and turned to him, “Bucky?”

He started to shake and tried to stand, only for Steve to touch his hand and tentatively attempt to guide him back down.

“Bucky –

“N-No,” he stammered, his voice weak, “Steve, you’re –

Steve risked a firmer push to keep him seated.

“Breathe, Buck,” he soothed, clasping his shoulder, “Wanda and I found her…she’s expecting us.”

Bucky knew dozens of languages thanks to Hydra’s training and his time in the army. But it was as though Steve was speaking one he didn’t know.

What he was saying…if Bucky was hearing him right…just didn’t make sense.

It couldn’t be right.

If Irina was alive – and that was a big ‘if’ – there was no way in hell she’d want to see him.

Steve frowned.

“I’m sorry, Buck…I…I didn’t think you’d get on the jet if I told you at the compound.”

“She,” he licked his dry lips, “she’s not…she can’t be…”

Alive?

So close?

Willing to see him?

_All of the above…_

“She is, Buck,” Steve said gently, “she’s healthy; has a nice place on a lake, a couple of dogs…a good life.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or be sick.

“She…wants to see me?” he managed in a hushed voice.

Somehow asking it made him feel like an idiot and he looked down, unable to take in Steve’s expression as the question left him.

“Yeah, Buck,” he said, squeezing his shoulder, “she was hesitant, afraid to be hurt again I’m sure…but she said you could go out and spend a few days at her place, see if you two can make amends.”

Bucky glanced behind him, to his packed bags on the bench.

“She…she’s going to let me stay?”

He wanted to believe it more than anything, but it sounded too good to be true…

“I hurt her,” he muttered, blue eyes shame-filled, “I…I don’t understand…why she’d...”

“You’ll have time to figure it out,” Steve assured him, “Wanda is meeting us near a field a few miles from Irina’s place where there’s enough room for the quinjet to land. We’ll drive back with her, then head out to give you and Irina some time alone before dinner.”

Bucky nodded quickly but paled at the idea of being alone with her.

What should he say? Would she be angry? Sad?

Did…did she feel the same way for him she did two years ago, or had she moved on when he couldn’t?

Bucky looked down at himself, taking in the sight of his filthy tactical gear and grimaced.

“I’m…I’m a mess,” Bucky admitted with a self-depreciating, watery laugh, “fuck, Stevie…”

Steve smiled fondly.

“It’s going to be okay, Buck. I’m sure she’ll let you have a shower and do some laundry.”

Laundry.

Right, he hadn’t done that in…well, he wasn’t sure how long.

Everything Steve had packed had to be dirty.

The quinjet settled and Bucky looked up, panicked.

They were in a field and had over a dozen cows slowly encroaching upon them despite the quinjet’s stealth shields being engaged; the slight breeze it generated in landing having piqued their curiosity.

In the distance, on a road just beyond a rickety wooden fence, he saw a white SUV pulled onto the shoulder.

“S-Steve…”

“It’s going to be okay, Buck,” Steve assured him, “come on, lets go so Friday can get the quinjet out of the field.”

He eyed the cows.

“Before we’re surrounded…”

Bucky nodded, standing on weak legs and shaking like a leaf in the wind as he followed Steve to the back of the quinjet.

Steve grabbed his own bag and Bucky’s gym bag.

“You good?” he asked.

Bucky slowly took his backpack. Steve had packed it to the point of bursting but given that it was likely all clothes, it didn’t make sense how hard lifting it was.

“I…don’t know.”

He couldn’t stop shaking.

If it wasn’t the middle of summer - and he didn’t have the benefits of the serum - he’d write it off as merely being cold.

But he wasn’t.

If anything he was uncomfortably warm.

And lightheaded….and…

His flesh hand was numb and tingly.

“Just…please don’t let me pass out in front of her.”

Steve gave him a warm, sympathetic smile.

“It’s going to be alright. I’ve got your back, Buck.”

* * *

Irina sat on the steps of her front porch, anxiously waiting for her SUV to appear through the trees.

_Any minute now…_

After two years of self-imposed exile, she was going to face him again in just a few minutes…it was a mad thing to try to wrap her head around.

Beau whined from the other side of the storm-door, pawing the bottom of it when she initially ignored him.

“Hang in there, buddy, you’re okay,” she soothed, unable to pull her gaze from the gravel driveway cut through the woods.

Irina bit the inside of her cheek.

It was wild just how clearly she recalled his voice - time couldn’t dilute it…

_‘I don’t love you…’_

Fuck, it still hurt.

Why did it still hurt - after two years?

Should it not have eased by now?

_‘I don’t want you, Irina…’_

Her chest tightened as her breath caught in her throat, choking her.

_‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’_

A lot of things, Irina figured.

She’d been born into Hydra, raised in near-isolation, and experimented on for years.

How was a person supposed to walk away from that unscathed?

_‘You’re fucking sick…’_

She managed to let out a short, shaky breath.

_‘I don’t want you…’_

Why had he come back into the motel room? He’d left…what made him change his mind?

_‘I don’t love you…’_

Why?

Had he been so eager to get between her legs that he’d not worried about breaking her heart?

_‘On your back, dorogaya…’_

She loved him.

Fully, completely.

But in hindsight, it felt as though he - if anything - merely lusted for her.

Guilt was just the seasoning on top that had spurred into action.

And that was a hard pill to swallow.

She roughly rubbed away her tears, gritting her teeth together to try to control her quivering chin. The last thing she needed was for Bucky to see how upset she still was…

_‘So fucking pretty…’_

That night…she’d wanted him to make love to her. As stupid and naïve as it was, it was the truth.

But he’d fucked her. Repeatedly. Until neither of them could fight the pull of sleep.

_‘I don’t love you…’_

She was nothing more than a warm, willing body; blindly eager to bend to and please him…

Irina sniffled as she blinked away her tears.

Who could fault him for eagerly taking what was so freely offered?

Irina took a slow, deep breath.

_Get your shit together._

She hadn’t managed to get more than a few hours of broken, restless sleep. Nightmares plagued her, jerking her awake twice before she threw in the towel and stayed up when woken the third time, around four o’clock.

She’d tried to busy herself with chores, but her anxious energy spurred her into completing them at a record pace and she spent the rest of the morning down on the wharf with the boys while Wanda coordinated things with Steve.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Irina stretched out her legs, smoothing out the bottom hem of her tank top.

She’d fretted over what to wear for over an hour before relenting and accepting Wanda’s help. They’d settled on a pair of jean shorts that weren’t too short and a pretty pink tank top that had a ruffle of fabric over the bust.

It was cute, but now she wondered if it was too much.

Would it come off as too flirty? Desperate? Should she change?

Irina tapped her fingers on the porch.

It was a bright, warm summer day…wearing shorts and a tank top wasn’t inappropriate…

Right?

_I’m overthinking this…_

She tightened the elastic holding her hair in a high ponytail and wondered if perhaps Bucky would have a hard time recognizing her…

Her brown hair was a bit longer and lighter than it had been thanks to the sun, her skin not quite so pale. There were more freckles on her shoulders and chest, and she’d had her ears pierced.

She looked down-right normal.

She was twirling her pearl stud earring when she glimpsed movement through the trees and perked up in time to see her SUV come into view.

_Oh my god…oh my god…_

Her heart pounded wildly and as the car pulled up in front of the house, Irina had to strain to think of a time she was as nervous as she was now. Standing outside the motel room two years ago, debating whether or not to knock might be closest, but this…

_Is it too late to turn and run?_

Wanda smiled at her as she got out of the driver’s seat and shut the door. Steve emerged from the passenger’s side, rounding the car and offering a smile.

Irina slowly descended the steps.

She noticed the door behind Steve’s open and close, but Bucky lingered on the other side of the car.

“Steve,” she regarded him with confusion, “why are you wearing that?”

“Uhhh,” he looked down at himself, as though even he was surprised, “yeah…about that…”

Wanda rolled her eyes.

“He thought it was a good idea to make Bucky think they were going on a mission,” she explained, “he didn’t tell him he was coming to see you until they landed.”

Irina glared at him.

“Steven!”

He gave her a meek, brow-beaten look.

“I’m sorry…maybe it wasn’t my best move.”

Wanda snorted.

“Maybe?”

Irina sighed and waved them in.

“Go in and get changed before someone sees you or the boys lose their mind.”

Beau bayed loud enough to rattle the rafters, while Sampson poked the storm door’s glass panel incessantly with his nose.

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, shifting the armload of bags he was carrying and turned back, “you coming, Buck?”

Irina’s heart stilled as the man in question slowly stepped around the car.

_Oh god…Bucky…_

He was looking around, taking in the sights and sounds of the woods, before his gaze turned and fell upon her.

She caught the moment he realized she really was standing in front of him, saw the tension in his shoulders and the disbelief in his eyes…

_My god…_

He looked like absolute hell.

More troubling than the dust and grime covering him or the unkept state of his hair and beard, was the fact that he somehow looked thinner, frailer.

She didn’t think such a thing was possible.

He was the strong, unshakable force that had trained her and helped her survive the last few years of her time with Hydra. He was unbending; the strongest person she had ever met…

What the hell had the last two years done to him?

“We’ll…head inside,” Steve offered, glancing between them before nodding to Wanda.

They headed past Irina, Wanda pausing ever so slightly to squeeze her hand.

When the storm door shut behind them and Beau’s baying mercifully subsided, Irina was left at the bottom of the porch steps only a few paces from Bucky.

Everything was strangely quiet.

She swallowed hard and managed a tight smile.

“H-Hi, Bucky.”

He reached out touch the hood of the car to steady himself but said nothing.

“Come on…”

Irina cautiously approached him.

He was shaking violently and looked as though he would topple over if a stiff breeze hit him.

_Fuck…Bucky…_

As she drew closer, she reached out to offer him her hand.

“Come inside.”

His gaze darted from her eyes to her hand and back.

“It’s okay…”

When he made no move to take her hand, she lowered it.

“Bucky?”

Near enough to touch him, she watched him closely as she tentatively grasped his flesh hand.

Her anger and heartache from not ten minutes ago hit the backburner.

Steve hadn’t been exaggerating.

Bucky looked awful - he needed to be handled gently.

He let out a ragged breath as she carefully threaded her fingers between his.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, her eyes welling with tears, “come on inside.”

He tentatively lifted his metal hand from the hood of her car, revealing the perfect impression of his hand as a dent in the metal.

He paled at the sight of it.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice so soft she nearly missed it.

Irina chuckled.

“It’s okay…it’s just a car.”

She led him toward the house before he could protest.

Wanda was sitting on the couch, Beau and Sampson both vying for her attention. The bags Steve had brought in sat beside her.

“Steve should be ready to head out soon,” Wanda said, “what time do you want us to be back by?”

Irina gave Bucky a soft look before letting go of his hand to head into the kitchen.

He followed like a scared puppy.

“We’ve still got about five hours left on the slow cooker,” she answered, checking the alarm she’d set, “any idea what you’re going to do?”

“No idea,” Wanda admitted, “Steve will figure something out I’m sure.”

As if on cue, Steve hurried down the stairs, shoving the last pieces of his suit into his backpack as he went.

“Ready?” he asked Wanda.

She nodded and he turned to Irina.

“You alright if we head out?”

Irina glanced to Bucky; whose gaze was downcast.

He was steadying himself against the kitchen island, this time with his flesh hand.

“We’ll be fine,” she said with a nod, “don’t mind the dent on the hood.”

Steve looked to Bucky for explanation, but Irina intervened.

“It’s fine, Steve, really.”

She walked them to the door.

“He’d just gotten back from a weeklong mission when I got to the compound,” Steve said quietly, though Bucky could undoubtedly hear him, “I don’t know when he last slept or ate, Irina.”

It didn’t surprise her, but it still hurt to hear.

“That’s alright, I’ll take care of him.”

She felt as though she could see the weight lift from Steve’s shoulders as she spoke, and happily accepted his crushing embrace.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, Steve.”

She lingered at the door, watching them as they got in the car with Beau at her side. She rubbed his long ears as Steve and Wanda headed out; Steve waving as they pulled away.

Beau whined.

“They’ll be back, boy,” she assured him.

Quiet had returned to the house, but it brought with it a layer of tension.

Irina turned and sighed at the sight of Bucky, still rooted in place at the island. Sampson was at his side, nudging Bucky’s leg with his nose in a bid to get the man to give in and pet him.

Bucky seemed too lost in his own mind to manage more than a vacant glance Sampson’s way.

“Sampson, let up,” Irina groaned, waving the demanding dog away as she neared Bucky, “sorry, he’s a demanding little shit.”

His gaze shifted to her and her heart plummeted as she saw just how tear-filled his blue eyes were.

“Bucky…”

She knew his mind had to be racing; he’d had less time to process their reunion than she did.

_Get him fed, cleaned up, then deal with…everything else…_

“Bucky –

“I…I thought you were dead,” he mumbled suddenly, voice trembling and rough, as if from disuse.

“I…um…”

Irina had no idea what to say.

Just under the surface of the calm, collected façade she was maintaining was a tremendous amount of pain. It couldn’t remain on the backburner forever. Trying would be like attempting to contain a flood – eventually it would overpower her.

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

He’d broken her heart and stomped the pieces into dust. Even now, seeing him so broken before her, a part of her wanted to scream at him.

_Later…just…later…_

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I…I didn’t leave to hurt you. Honestly…I thought it would be the best thing for both of us.”

He didn’t seem comforted by her words, but she spoke before he could, eager to buy herself more time.

“When did you eat last?”

“I…don’t know,” he admitted, watching her round the island, “um, maybe…a day or so ago…”

Irina scowled at him and opened the refrigerator, only to grimace at the sight of it so bare.

“Hmm, I really need to go grocery shopping,” she muttered under her breath, “is leftover stew okay? Just to tide you over till dinner is ready?”

Bucky nodded.

“Good, sit,” she ordered.

He did as she said without protest and watched her in silence as she fetched a bowl from the cupboards, filled it nearly to the point of overflowing, and placed in it the microwave.

“I hope this is okay,” she said, “I learned to cook through a mix of trial-and-error and YouTube tutorial videos. It’s good enough for me, but I’ve never had to entertain.”

She heard him clear his throat and glanced his way.

“You…you’re alone out here?” he asked nervously.

“Yeah. Just me and the boys,” she said, smiling, “I’ve got good neighbors close enough for safety’s sake but far away enough that I have my privacy.”

“So…you’re happy?”

“Most days, yes.”

The microwave beeped to signal it was done and she grabbed a hand towel to protect her hands as she took the bowl out.

“I always put things in there too damn long,” she grumbled, placing the bowl in front of him, “oh, yes, a spoon would help.”

She quickly fetched one for him.

“Eat up,” she urged, handing it to him, “then we’ll see if we can get you cleaned up.”

While he ate, Irina checked the roast beef she had going in the slow cooker and let the boys outside.

She wandered back to the kitchen once they were in and saw, much to her surprise, that Bucky had finished.

“I guess it was okay, then?” she chuckled, “or you were so hungry it didn’t matter?”

“Was really good,” he muttered, nodding quickly, “really.”

“Well thank goodness,” she placed the bowl in the sink for later and grabbed Bucky’s bags from the couch, “follow me.”

He stood and made to do as she said but was alarmingly unsteady.

“Woah,” she hurried towards him, bags slung over her shoulder, to grab his hand, “Bucky, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

If lack of sleep and food had him this weak, she knew he had to have been neglecting himself for some time.

His enhancements made him hardy, yes, but underneath it he was human.

A fact she wondered if he had forgotten.

_Stubborn man…_

“Dunno,” he admitted in a whisper, “’m shaky and…and my hand is numb…”

She reached up to press the palm of her hand to his forehead and frowned upon feeling just how clammy his skin was.

“Feel lightheaded?”

He nodded, leaning into her hand ever so slightly.

It was a slight motion, one easy enough to explain away, but more than enough to make her heart tense and ache.

“’m sorry,” he mumbled as their eyes met.

“Don’t apologize for not feeling well,” she scoffed, “you’re human, it happens.”

_More often when you don’t take care of yourself, but who am I to judge…_

“Not for that,” he clarified, expression wrought with nervous energy, “for…for everything else…”

Irina’s breath caught in her throat.

_‘I don’t love you…I don’t want you, Irina…’_

She bit her lip and grabbed his hand.

He didn’t protest or push her to answer. Instead, he followed her in silence.

She led him up the stairs and into her bedroom. Her ensuite had the only shower in the house, the other still very much a work in progress renovation wise.

Still, it was undeniably intimate, leading him in.

She sat his bags down on her bed and unzipped them to see what Steve had packed. No shampoo or bodywash jumped out at her, and as she dug through the mess of clothes two things became painfully clear.

One, Steve hadn’t packed any shampoo, bodywash, or shaving supplies.

And, two, every piece of clothing he’d packed was dirty.

“Bucky?”

She turned to look at him.

“None of this is clean.”

She doublechecked the backpack.

“And there’s a single pair of underwear in these two bags,” she huffed, “fuck, Steve…”

“I…haven’t done much laundry lately,” Bucky admitted, gaze downcast in embarrassment as the admission left him, “not Steve’s fault…”

Her frustration evaporated at the sight of him so meek and mortified.

“It’s okay. You can use my shampoo and bodywash,” she grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom, “and I’ll get your clothes in the wash.”

She placed fresh towels on the vanity and hurried back into her bedroom to grab a pair of her pyjama pants.

“Sorry, I don’t have much else for you to wear while everything’s getting cleaned,” she placed it atop the towels, “might not have as much…um…space in the, um, front, for you but its clean.”

She stepped past him, keeping her gaze down to hide her blushing, and got the shower going.

“Take your time. I’m sure a cool shower will help you feel better.”

She slipped from the bathroom quickly, not allowing him a window to so much as thank her and shut the door behind her.

Knowing that if she slowed, the reality of it all would hit her and she’d be an inconsolable mess, she pressed on.

She grabbed his bags and headed down the hall to the washer and dryer.

Once she had the first load going, she fetched a sports drink from the refrigerator, thinking it might help him feel better if the shower failed.

_Got to tackle that beard too…_

She sprinted back up the stairs and rifled through her linen closet until she found all she’d need – washcloths, a fresh razor, and shave cream. 

Arms loaded with supplies, she headed back into her room just as the shower turned off.

A minute later, the door opened, and she looked to him without thinking anything of it, only to be faced with a half-naked Bucky.

Immediately her face flushed, warm and red.

The pyjama pants she’d given him left nothing to the imagination. They hung low on his hips and the thin fabric clung to him in places that made her mouth water. His skin was still damp, and the droplets of water trickling down his stomach nearly made her brain short-circuit.

But the millisecond before that could happen, she registered the patchwork of bruises and scrapes over his chest and arm.

“Oh my god, Bucky…what happened?”

Had he been tackled? Thrown through a window? Outnumbered? Where had his back-up been?

Bucky bit his lip and looked down at himself, shrugging.

When he made no move to clarify, she huffed, frustrated by his indifference, and grabbed her supplies, pushing past him to step into the bathroom.

He quietly followed her.

“Sit,” she patted the closed lid of the toilet and set about filling the sink with warm water, “any attachment to that beard?”

He shook his head as he sat and accepted the sports drink she offered, downing half of it in a single gulp.

“Trust me to do this?”

He nodded, setting the drink aside to face her expectantly.

Irina smirked and started working the shaving cream over his beard.

“I appreciate your blind trust.”

It pulled the tiniest hint of a smile from him.

She tilted his head to the side and started at his sideburn.

His gaze kept flicking to her face, but she kept her focus on what she was doing, if only to spare herself the awkwardness of their eyes meeting when they were so close to each other.

When she rinsed the razor in the sink, he spoke.

“Where did you learn how to do this?”

Irina chuckled.

_Now he asks…_

“I volunteer once a week at a retirement home in town. Spend a few hours talking to the residents that never get visitors and helping out where needed. Lately that’s been at the salon.”

She rinsed the razor.

“A few of the gentlemen like to stay clean shaven but have a hard time doing it themselves,” she worked her way down toward his jawline, “I learned so I could help.”

She smirked as she rinsed and started toward his cheek.

“It’s a lot easier to do when you’re working with firmer skin.”

Bucky gave a short laugh.

“’m glad ‘m not a pain.”

Irina looked up and met his gaze.

They were close, so close it wouldn’t take much to close the distance between their lips…

But as the thought crossed her mind, tears sprung to her eyes.

Why did these thoughts even come to her?

_‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’_

She pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek hard to try and distract herself enough to stave off her breakdown.

_‘I don’t love you, Irina…’_

“Irina?”

She took a deep breath and stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

Mercifully he didn’t push the issue, but she knew better than to expect it would remain that way.

“We’ll have to head into town tomorrow for groceries,” she said softly, sniffling, “and we’ll have to get you some clothes. Steve just packed a lot of jeans and sweaters…you might want a t-shirt or two in this heat. And you, know, maybe some underwear.”

She flicked the razor clean in the water.

“Maybe we can get your hair cut too…if you want.”

When she turned back to him to continue, she found his gaze already on her.

“W-What?”

She didn’t know quite what to make of the look he was giving her. It was fear, incredulity, awe, and sadness all at once; an alarming onslaught of emotion to be hit with.

It nearly knocked the breath from her.

“You’re…really going to let me stay?”

“Well…yeah,” she stammered, forcing a smile, “of course.”

“But…I hurt you.”

Irina sucked in a tight breath.

“Yes…you did.”

_‘I’m in love with Natasha, I want her…’_

If she was being honest, he’d been the source of nearly all the blinding, debilitating pain she’d endured in her life. Hydra had him train her and he’d been ruthless, pushing her to the edge of her limits to make her as formidable a weapon as possible. Mikhailov had him fuck her, manipulating them together for his own amusement while he enjoyed a literal front row seat to their depravity.

And when she’d finally broke free and sprinted blindly into a world she didn’t understand in search of him, she’d had to endure watching him parade around the compound with Natasha, seemingly stupidly in love.

A lot of pain built up to the night they’d shared at the motel…

How were they supposed to come back from that?

Could they?

Irina sniffled and mutely continued, pointedly avoiding his attempts to meet her gaze as she worked.

The silence that followed was awkward, but it at least allowed Irina to finish quickly enough. When she suspected she was done, she touched his chin and guided him to look up and to the side, making sure she hadn’t missed anything or nicked him.

“Think I did okay…”

She tried to ignore the warm feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when her thumb grazed the dimple in his chin.

She sighed and fetched a skin cleanser from under the vanity, gently rubbing it into his sensitive skin and wiping it off with a cold cloth.

“There. Done.”

Bucky stood and looked at himself in the mirror.

She watched him with feigned indifference and wondered how long it had been since he’d seen himself so clean and refreshed.

“Thank you, Irina.”

“You’re welcome,” she dried her hands, “come on, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

She led him back down the hallway, to the bedroom Wanda had slept in the night before. She’d changed the bedding already and piled a few extra blankets at the foot of the bed, again, just in case.

“I hope this is okay,” she said, flicking on the light, “I haven’t got around to finishing this room…didn’t think I’d need to use it so soon.”

“It’s fine, Irina, really.”

She nodded but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

She needed fresh air, a drink…and possibly to break something…

“You should probably get some sleep –

“We should probably talk, Irina.”

She couldn’t fight the anger his words raised in her.

_Really? You think we need to talk?_

Her hands shook and she shoved them into the tiny pockets of her shorts, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“When was the last time you got some sleep?” she countered angrily.

Bucky flinched at her sharp tone but thought for a moment, caught off guard by her question.

“O-On the flight here.”

“Longer than an hour at most.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and ultimately shrugged.

Irina sighed.

“Sleep,” she urged, “I’m not going anywhere…and you look like your about to topple over.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. He looked better, having had something to eat and a shower and shave, but somehow the bruises looked worse.

_It’s catching up to him…_

He nodded, but the conflict was clear in his eyes.

“You’ll want to shut the door…unless you want two idiots with no sense of personal space to join you,” she cautioned, “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

She hurried past him, practically hugging herself to keep from so much as grazing him as she did. She didn’t look back as she started down the stairs, but after a few tense breaths she heard the door shut behind him.

And finally she let out the breath she’d been holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for sticking around to read this note! :P
> 
> A heads up - updates may not be as frequent as I'd like. I work at a hospital and things, as I'm sure you can all relate to, have been chaotic as hell. I'm going to do my best because writing is a great distraction, but please bare with me as I juggle things. 
> 
> PLEASE take care of yourselves as we battle Covid-19 together! <3 lots of love to you all from Canada!


	9. VIII: Love(d)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and Bucky have a long overdue talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this latest update! I'd intended to have this chapter up shortly after my last update, but I decided to rewrite it instead! I really have to stop being so damn picky and critical and just post. It's honestly what keeps the updates so far apart - I'm not happy until I've reread and rewritten every chapter :( it's annoying, but I'm gonna try to work on it!
> 
> Also, I hope you're all staying safe! Things at the hospital I work at have become really chaotic, and we're by no means the worst hit :( PLEASE stay home, stay safe, and flatten that curve so we can all get back to normal!

Fresh air didn’t help.

And neither did the tall boy of Molson Canadian she downed in two long gulps.

She’d learned early on in her exile that she could get drunk, but that it took an ungodly amount of alcohol for that to happen. The single can she’d had left in her fridge wasn’t going to do a damn thing, but she’d been desperate enough to give it a shot.

Unsurprisingly, it did nothing.

She sat on the wharf, tried to read…

Nothing helped; her thoughts continued to return to Bucky.

In a last-ditch effort to clear her head and calm her nerves, she retreated to the studio she’d set up in the loft space of her house.

It had been an accidental discovery, much like the fact that she could get drunk. She’d been drawn to art galleries, more out of curiosity at first than anything else.

But the second she stepped into the Louvre; she’d been hooked.

It didn’t matter the medium or the style – she loved it all.

The colours, the movement of the brush strokes; each so precise and powerful. The fact each piece, no matter how bizarre looking at first glance, conveyed such emotion…

She envied it. The ability of artists to understand their emotions clearly enough to turn pain and heartache into something beautiful.

How could she not try it?

And once she’d found the courage to do just that, there’d been no going back.

It was stabilizing in ways nothing else she tried was, capable of silencing the chaos in her mind long enough for her to breathe and refocus.

But the second she got out her paints and touched her brush to the canvas, she knew something was wrong. Her hand wasn’t cooperating. The colours she knew and loved weren’t blending how she knew they could. And she couldn’t get the movement she needed out of her brush strokes.

It was flat, and she was quickly losing her patience with the piece.

The final straw was an errant bristle of her brush dragging emerald green through the burnt sienna of a tree’s autumn leaves.

She choked on a sob and whipped her brush across the room.

It hit the window, leaving a streak of green down the middle before clattering to the floor.

Which only infuriated her more.

She snatched the canvas from her easel and flung it hard against the wall, not caring that when it snapped it damaged a piece she’d put hours into.

Or that the sound startled Beau and Sampson enough to send them running from their place at the door.

She just didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

_Why the fuck is he here?_

She snapped off the horizontal bar from her easel and threw it across the room.

_I wanted to be left alone!_

She kicked over the easel and tore off one of its legs, gritted her teeth, and sent it hurdling towards her cabinet of supplies. It broke the glass in the cabinet door and sent bottles of paint rolling across the floor.

She stomped it, sobbing as she did, until the easel – one of the first things she’d bought herself when she started her new life – snapped.

_Why?_

She heaved its broken carcass across the room, carving a furrow in the drywall and sending her neatly stacked canvases crashing onto the floor.

_Why?_

Hyperventilating, she stumbled backward as she looked around the room, her eyes wide and panicked.

_Why did he kiss me if he felt nothing?_

_Why did he use me like that?_

_Why did he –_

“Irina?”

She spun around and saw Bucky standing in the doorway.

His startled expression pissed her off.

“Sweetheart -

“Why are you here?” Irina snapped, throwing up her hands in defeat, “why the fuck are you here?”

He pursed his lips and glanced around the room, taking it all in before looking to her.

She faintly registered that he was still shaking.

“I…I’ve missed you,” he began, “and I’ve been worried…ever since you left –

“I ran away,” she seethed, pointing at him, “from you!”

Bucky hung his head.

“Irina –

“I loved you!” she cried, “I loved you and you fucked me and tossed me aside like…like…”

She gasped for breath, shaking as it all hit her.

_‘I don’t want you…’_

“Like I was nothing! You were everything to me and I meant nothing to you!”

“That’s not true, Irina,” Bucky mumbled, quickly blinking back his tears to cautiously approach her, “I swear I –

“Fuck that!”

She closed the distance between them in a single stride and tried to push him away.

“Fuck you!”

“Irina –

“No!”

She put more of her weight into it, and still he didn’t budge.

“You left me behind!” she sobbed, slapping away his attempts to grab her hands, “you don’t get to come back after two years and pretend like you care –

“I do, sweetheart –

Irina landed a hard slap across his cheek.

“Stop lying!”

She pushed him again.

“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’!”

Bucky grabbed her hands and pulled her forward, into an embrace.

“Irina! Stop!”

She tried to work her hands free but failed. He’d pinned her too tight to get even a finger free.

“Let me go!” she whined, trying to arch her body away from him.

His body was too warm, too familiar and strong against hers. She wanted to keep fighting, to claw and kick her way free, but it calmed her despite her best efforts.

“Please…let me go…”

He shushed her and loosened his embrace enough to rub her back.

She hated how much she liked it.

Bucky said nothing as he led her back, over the broken glass, and down to sit against the wall. She sat between his legs, her back to his chest.

His metal arm was draped across her stomach and he’d buried his face in the crook of her neck.

His tears struck her skin.

Slowly, she relaxed. Her heart stopped racing and she could breathe deeply again.

But while the blinding rage had lifted, the unbearable pain it left exposed was too much to stomp back down and ignore.

“You’re an asshole,” she whispered, rubbing away her tears with the palm of her hand, “all you’ve ever done is hurt me…”

Bucky’s metal fingers fisted the fabric of her tank top, but his grip around her didn’t tighten.

“I know…”

“Are you here to hurt me some more?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Fuck me then?” she tried, “should I bend over that desk and let you –

“No!” he choked, horrified by her words, “I-

“What, then? What do you want from me? Forgiveness?”

“I don’t deserve it,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath, “I don’t deserve you…I never have.”

Irina couldn’t argue him on that.

“I loved you. I’m not perfect…but I deserved to be loved too…”

Bucky let go of the fistful of fabric he had at her stomach and hugged her to him, afraid she’d get up and walk away entirely.

“I knew you were remembering in Nevada,” she continued, “I almost had everything I needed to leave when you slipped me that note, and I know…I know I should have ignored it and not gone but…”

“But?”

She made no move to continue, lost in the memory of that night.

The naïve hope that had spurred her into accepting his invitation…

The soul-crushing pain of his words as he rejected her and stormed from the room…

How happy she was when he came back and kissed her because finally, finally she knew just how perfect his lips felt against her own…

Irina slumped back into his chest, defeated.

“Why did you meet me that night?”

“Cause I was stupid,” she snorted, “am stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Irina.”

“I am. I went there that night because I loved you. I slept with you because I loved you. I loved you and I knew it was all I was gonna get of you and…and…”

He held her as tears shook her.

“And you left in the morning,” she managed, her voice tight, “and I had to listen to you fuck Natasha that night!”

The anger that struck her with that memory had her gritting her teeth. She tensed against him, pressing against his embrace as her need to be rid of his touch returned.

“I wish I could hurt you like that! You deserve it! You should know how badly you hurt me when you did that!”

She arched her back, trying to weakly wiggle free.

“Irina…please…let me explain –

Irina shook her head and tried harder to break free.

Bucky rubbed her arm and shushed her.

“Listen to me,” he pleaded, “please Irina…”

She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. He didn’t deserve a chance to explain himself, his words and actions two years ago had been clear enough.

And she was sick of him hurting her.

But more of his tears hit her neck. A few had started to trail lazily down her chest, slowing as they met the curve of her breast.

Why was he crying? Where was the Bucky who had shoved a package of ‘Plan B’ at her the second she’d woken and declared that they’d never speak of it again?

Why the hell was he here?

“Listen to me,” he tried again, his voice gentle despite his own tears, “please. If you want me to leave after I’ve said my piece, I will. I swear. Just hear me out.”

His offer peaked her interest and she shifted up her shoulder to wipe her tears away.

“You…mean that?”

Bucky nodded.

“I’ll leave…I swear. I’ll keep Hydra off your back so you can live here peacefully, but you won’t have to see me again. Please…”

It was a tempting offer…

“Fine,” she mumbled as evenly as she could, “speak.”

Bucky sighed heavily and she shivered as his breath tickled her neck.

“After Nevada…I started remembering more. I remembered…a girl in the middle of the hell Hydra had me in. It didn’t feel real…or right…that she could be there. That you could be there.”

He took a sharp breath.

“You grew up into a beautiful young woman and…and I didn’t like the way some of the guards looked at you. I always felt better when you were with me. I…hurt you, when we trained together, I know, but…I knew where you were, at least.”

He tensed against her.

“What he ordered me to do…”

Irina’s chest tightened.

“I remember raping you,” he gasped, “I remember you crying and pleading for me to stop. You were so scared and I…I…”

She held her breath in an effort to control her tears.

The pain and fear she felt that night was etched into her mind, but so was the sight of the horror in his eyes afterwards.

“I should have killed him for giving me that order. I should have killed him and gotten you out of there!”

Irina slowly exhaled, placing her hand over his.

“You saved me from something worse,” she whispered.

Her skin still crawled at the thought of the ‘what ifs’.

“It wasn’t enough,” he lamented, “and…and after you were all I could think of. Irina, I wasn’t lying that night when I said you were the single most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…”

She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

“That you were perfect.”

She mumbled his name as her heart raced.

“I wanted you before that night,” he confessed, “and I wanted you after.”

He risked pressing a kiss just behind her ear and Irina gasped, eyes flicking open in an instant as her heart skipped a beat.

She had to be hearing him wrong. It was the only explanation.

Having him so close again had her dizzy, disoriented…fuck, maybe she’d had a minor stroke.

Because it couldn’t be true.

“It scared me how right it felt in Nevada and that night at the hotel…Irina, I was terrified of what I was feeling...”

She somehow managed to find her voice.

“S-So was I.”

“You were?”

“Yes. You…were with Natasha. You’re…you’re my father. I knew it was wrong,” she gave a weak shrug, “but…it didn’t feel wrong.”

In truth, nothing had felt more right, even when her heart broke.

His touch hadn’t reviled her, it had exhilarated her.

Just as it was now; there was no point in denying it.

“My only regrets from that night at the hotel were being so rough with you,” his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, “and leaving you in the morning.”

Confused, Irina shifted as much as she could to glance at him over her shoulder.

The sight of his red-rimmed, puffy eyes and quivering chin startled her. She might have felt his tears on her neck but seeing him so devastated was alarming.

This, right there between them now, was real.

And Irina was speechless at the sight of it.

Bucky managed a weak, watery smile.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he kissed her shoulder, “I can’t. Irina…I want to be with you.”

Her lips parted in a silent gasp and she tilted her head to the side as he pressed firm kisses up her neck.

“I want…I want to make you breakfast in bed…and shower together.”

Irina bit her lip.

“I want to hold you at night when we go to bed and make love to you in the morning,” he continued, sighing in relief as his long-awaited confession left him, “I want to go grocery shopping with you and walk the dogs with you and…and anything else you want…as long as we can be together…”

He rubbed her arms, his hold having long since loosened enough for her to break free.

“Sweetheart…whatever you need, however much time you need…I’ll do it, for a real chance with you.”

She wept, curling up into him and breaking down as he rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.

After everything, it hurt that her first thought, her first instinct, was to scream ‘yes’.

To push aside the hurt to be with him again.

But, God, that hurt…

She couldn’t bare it again.

To take that risk only to be wounded again…

And there was still the question of Natasha.

“Why,” she stammered, rubbing her tears off on his shoulder, “why did you…have to fuck her so I could hear?”

He hugged her.

“She confronted me,” he explained, “she knew something was off, something had changed. I wasn’t thinking of anything other than convincing her we were fine. It…seemed the easiest way to prove it to her. I…I wasn’t thinking of who might hear us…”

He watched her closely and she caught the moment his heart sank from the corner of her eye, reflected easily enough in his eyes.

“You don’t believe me….”

A statement, not a question.

Irina looked to him.

“I want to,” she admitted, “which really pisses me off…”

Why was quitting him so hard, even after all the hurt?

Bucky nodded quickly, tucking the stray hairs that had fallen free from her ponytail back behind her ears as he thought.

“What do you need?” he asked softly.

Irina had no clue.

She chewed the inside of her cheek and kept quiet as she considered his question.

What did she need?

More time? Space?

She’d gotten plenty of both during the last two years…

Did it change anything?

“You’ve got me,” Bucky said firmly, “I’m yours. Whatever time you need, that isn’t going to change.”

Was there anything that could make it better?

She sighed as he kissed his way down her neck to her shoulder.

Whatever his actions two years ago showed her, surely what he’d done in that time had to count too?

Bucky had chased her from one continent to the next. Maybe guilt had played a role in spurring him on, but if what he was saying was true…

“I’m so in love with you,” he confessed in a desperate breath, “and I’m so sorry it took me so long to admit it to myself.”

She couldn’t keep the doubt from her features.

“I am, Irina.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Do you still love me?” Bucky asked quietly, fearful of her answer, “Irina?”

_Yes._

But telling him that wasn’t so easy. It felt like she’d be caving, and she realized that maybe there wasn’t a version where them being together spared her that feeling.

It wasn’t a realization that brought much relief.

Irina rested her head against his shoulder and sighed heavily. She pouted as she thought to herself, absentmindedly reaching for his flesh hand. But as she made to slip her fingers between his, she grimaced at the sight of the bruise that greeted her.

“Jesus, Bucky,” she sat up straight, “what the fuck happened?”

When he remained silent, her gaze snapped to him.

“Bucky –

“It was nothing,” he mumbled.

“It’s probably broken –

“Fractured.”

Irina rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” she huffed, making to stand, “you need ice –

“Wait,” he pulled her back to him, “please…”

She didn’t fight him.

“Am I too late?” he asked once she’d settled back against his chest.

It was meant as a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, but Irina couldn’t think of a way to make it that simple.

“I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly.

Bucky inhaled sharply and gave a quick nod.

“Do…do you still love me?”

_Yes._

But all she could manage was a terse, almost imperceptible nod.

Bucky kissed her shoulder.

His relief was palpable.

“Then can’t we try?”

“Yes…no,” Irina rubbed her face, flustered, “I don’t know, Bucky! You’re asking me to risk getting hurt again!”

Tension returned to his body.

“What if it doesn’t work? What if you hate that I hog the bed or steal the covers? What if we have nothing in common? What if –

“So, we get a bigger bed,” he offered, “and I can make do without blankets.”

_For how long?_

It was a dumb, petty thought but she couldn’t shake it. How long would he tolerate the growing pains of figuring out how to make things work?

“Sweetheart?”

Irina sighed.

“Maybe…if you still want to stick around…we can give it time, see what happens. I…I can’t promise anything more…”

If he was going to be around, maybe trying wouldn’t be so hard? If being together didn’t work out or come naturally, they could at least be friends.

It was a compromise Irina could work with.

Bucky hugged her and she couldn’t keep the smirk from her lips.

“That’s okay?”

“Yes,” he mumbled from the crook of her neck, “yes, sweetheart. I meant it – whatever you need. However long you need.”

_We’ll see…_

“Thank you,” she gingerly lifted his flesh hand from her stomach, “come on, lets get some ice on this.”

* * *

Irina eased the car around the sharp, winding turns as they headed back home. Bucky was quiet in the seat next to her, looking out the window.

She wasn’t afraid of being alone with him, but when the quinjet rose from the field and disappeared in the clouds, the reality of it all hit her.

For better or worse, it was just the two of them now.

She only hoped they could make something of it.

She cleared her throat.

“Dinner was fine?”

From the corner of her eye she saw him smirk.

“It was great, Irina, thank you,” he chuckled, “wish Steve didn’t get to take the leftovers with him, but I’ll live.”

There had been so little left, Irina wasn’t sure they’d qualify as ‘leftovers’. But the way she’d seen it, Steve had been good enough to drag Bucky north, the least she could do was give in when he eyed the small container hopefully.

“He got the leftovers,” she smiled, “you get to live with the cook.”

Bucky laughed and when she risked a glance his way, her heart swelled at the sight of his eyes crinkled.

She wondered how long it had been since he laughed like that.

“Fair point,” he admitted, “so…groceries tomorrow?”

“If that’s okay with you. I know its not the most thrilling –

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, “really. It’ll be nice…normal.”

His tone was a bit sad, and Irina eyed him.

‘Normal’ wasn’t something he’d had in decades. And really, how much of it had he had before leaving for war?

He’d been born before the First World War had ended, grew up during the Great Depression, and left for war as a young man…

It hit her then how little she really knew about him, and it made her sad. Was sex and shared torment really all that existed between them?

She hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Irina?”

He’d reached over and lightly touched her arm as it rested on the center console.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Just trying to imagine you all domestic.”

He grimaced.

“Yeah, I’m a bit out of my element, aren’t I?”

Irina kept her eyes on the road but shifted to take his hand.

“You’ve not really had a fair shot at it,” she soothed, “you’ll get there. I know it still feels a bit strange to me at times…”

It had been a hell of a learning curve. She knew how to fight and kill…trying to figure out how to buy a house and deal with the crowds at the grocery store had made her feel like an alien.

“How did you manage?” he asked, squeezing her hand, “alone on the run the last two years, when everything was so…foreign?”

“Well, having you on my tail was a good motivator,” Irina admitted with a smirk, “otherwise, I just watched people. And after a while, it was easier not to stick out in a crowd.”

And somehow, somewhere along the way, it didn’t feel quite so forced.

Bucky hummed and looked back out the window. He didn’t let go of her hand.

* * *

Irina drew the curtains closed and shut the door. Beau was already asleep at the foot of her bed. Sampson was awake but his eyes seemed heavy and she suspected it wouldn’t be the case for long.

She stripped off her clothes and tossed them in the hamper before sifting through her dresser drawers.

Since it was a warm night, she chose a thin, pale blue nighty. It still had a high neck, but the fabric was soft and cool, and she sighed as it slipped over her warm skin.

She was brushing her hair when there was a knock at her door.

“Yes?”

Bucky opened the door a crack.

“Are you decent?”

“I am,” she answered with a laugh.

He was standing in the doorway when she turned, but she wasn’t expecting the look he was giving her.

Though he stood there in nothing but a pair of pyjama pants, looking so gorgeous it damn near hurt, he’d let his gaze fall to the floor and looked embarrassed.

Irina immediately looked down at herself.

The nighty was hardly the most flattering or revealing and was more boxy on her than anything else. She was covered – what had him blushing like that?

“I just wanted to say good night,” Bucky managed, gaze still downcast.

Irina stepped toward him.

“Good night.”

His gaze rose as she neared, and she had to smother the immediate urge she had to reach out and touch him.

Bucky cleared his throat.

“What time should I be up?”

Irina shrugged as she leaned against the door.

“Don’t worry about setting an alarm. I’ll just wake you whenever I get up,” she said, “there’s no rush to get out.”

Bucky nodded and started back to his room.

“Sleep tight,” Irina said softly, smiling when he stopped and wished her the same before stepping into his room.

She slowly closed her door.

“What the hell was that about?”

When neither Beau or Sampson offered a suggestion, she stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the light. As she started to brush her teeth, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized at once what had Bucky blushing like an idiot.

Her nighty, while boxy, was see-through.

_Oh, come on…_

The mirror only let her get a good look at herself from the hips up, but it was enough.

_Why? Why me?_

About the only thing obscured were her freckles. Hell, she may as well have been naked.

She quickly finished brushing her teeth and hurried to her bed. She nudged Beau aside to slip under the covers and grumbled as she fought for more of the blankets from the stubborn hound.

“You fuckers should have told me,” she grumbled.

Beau snorted.

Sampson was silent as he curled up on the floor beside her bed.

“He’s gonna think it was intentional,” Irina whined, tugging the sheets up over her head, “fuck…why me?”

Beau kicked her as he stretched out beside her.

“Thanks, jerk.”

Irina pulled her pillow over her head.

Only a few hours into her co-habitation with the man, and she’d already gone and practically pranced around naked in front of him.

_Well…we’re off to a great start…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> Personally, I'm psyched to write all the domestic fluff and flirty fun I've got planned - hope you're all equally excited to read it :P
> 
> Thank you for your continued patience and kind words, dear readers! You're all simply the best :)


	10. IX: Close, Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Irina's first day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly so ashamed at how long posting an update for you all has taken me. For weeks, I've sat idle on this fic. Which is so annoying because I've got the rough outline for the next few chapters written out!
> 
> I only hope this chapter makes up for my tardiness. I split it into two sections since what I have planned would likely put me close to the 10k word count and for a single chapter I felt that would be a bit clunky.
> 
> HOPEFULLY the next chapter, part two of their first day together, will be up in a respectable amount of time :) *fingers crossed*
> 
> I don't know why, but I'm particularly anxious to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Maybe its because I've been silent so long with it? I don't know! I just really hope you guys like it!!! Thanks for reading and for being so patient!!!

Irina kept her eyes closed, but Beau knew she was awake regardless.

Still, as he stood on the bed and sniffed up her body, snorting as he went, she held out hope that her acting skills would be enough to pull the wool over his eyes.

_Just go back to bed, you big idiot._

He huffed dramatically, offended as though he’d heard what she’d thought, and shifted on the bed so that the bulk of his weight was on her stomach.

She let out a slow, strained breath as he settled on her.

_Oh, come on…_

She risked cracking open one eye and saw the tiniest hint of sunlight along the edges of the curtains. Even without checking her phone, she knew she had a couple hours before her alarm was set to go off.

A couple of hours Beau didn’t seem to want her to spend sleeping.

“Fine,” she sighed heavily, “get off me. I’m up.”

He sprung up, pushing off of her to hurry to the closed door.

“Thanks, you jerk.”

Irina rifled through her dresser quickly in search of something to cover herself with. The boys had to go outside, but she wasn’t going to risk bumping into Bucky in the hallway or kitchen with only her sheer nighty on.

She groaned at the memory of the previous night, of the look on Bucky’s face when she’d stood there, nearly naked and seemingly oblivious to it.

_Only to me…shit like this only happens to me…_

Irina tried to push that worry from her mind. She had a busy day ahead of her, worrying about it wasn’t going to change anything.

She settled on a cotton robe she found balled up at the back of a drawer, tugging it on and tying it quickly as she approached the boys.

“Hang on –

But the second the bedroom door opened; they took off.

Irina shushed them, but there really wasn’t a point. Beau scampered down the stairs, while Sampson skidded to a stop and hesitated at the closed guest bedroom door.

He whined and Irina gently grabbed him by his collar to guide him toward the stairs.

“You can annoy him later, Sampson; go on.”

He took each step a bit slower than Beau, but that was about all she could say in his favor.

Irina gave an exasperated sigh.

_Two bulls in a china shop, I tell ya…_

They were sitting at the back door when she stepped into the kitchen, silent except for Beau’s tail hitting the floor as it wagged.

“Good boys,” she praised, reaching over them for the lock, “thank you for sitting so –

The door opened and they took off, nails scrapping against the deck boards as they went.

“Nicely…”

Sampson patrolled the fence line, nose down and quiet. Beau was hopping around like an idiot, baying wildly as the scents from the night overwhelmed him.

_Well, at least they’re easy to please…_

She closed but didn’t latch the door as she set about getting their kibble ready. As she rifled through the cupboards for their bowls though, she realized just how sparse things were. There was literally nothing for her and Bucky to have for breakfast…unless they split a bagel.

And while she couldn’t speak for him, she was going to need more than that to settle the grumbling of her stomach.

_Maybe we can get breakfast at ‘Dolly’s’? They’ve got the best blueberry pancakes around…unless…maybe he doesn’t like pancakes?_

Beau and Sampson hurried back in and Irina put down their food, filled their water bowls, and shut the door.

As they ate, Irina decided ‘Dolly’s’ would have to do. They had a decent enough selection and, most importantly, they were closer than the other options that came to mind.

She grabbed a pen and pad of paper from the odds-n-ends drawer in the kitchen and started writing up a grocery list. When she felt like she’d at least gotten the essentials written down she grabbed a handful of reusable bags from the front closet and set them with the list near the door.

With Beau and Sampson occupied with their food, Irina headed upstairs. She stepped lightly, avoiding the spots on each step she knew to squeak. Bucky’s door was still closed when she reached the top, but she still tread lightly back to her bedroom.

Leaving the bedroom door cracked for the dogs, Irina grabbed some clothes, fresh panties and a bra from her dresser, and stepped into the ensuite bath. She set everything down on the vanity and closed the door before undressing.

She got the shower running as she made sure she had all she needed.

_Shampoo, check. Shave gel, check. Razor, yup -_

She smirked in amusement upon finding that Bucky had used up the last of her bodywash. Granted, there had not been much left, but it still made her heart flutter in a way she didn’t quite understand.

_Strange…_

Smothering the feeling and the myriad of questions it raised, Irina sat the empty bottle aside and knelt to check under the vanity for another bottle.

She found what she was looking for towards the back and as she reached for it, she noted her supply of tampons and pads was looking a little low. With her period only a few days away, that needed to be rectified.

_Something else to add to the list._

She sighed in contentment when she stepped into the shower and the warm water hit her.

There really wasn’t a better way to wake up and ready herself for the day.

She started with her hair, lathering it generously before standing in the stream of water to rinse in out.

As she ran her fingers through her hair, her mind wandered.

While she wasn’t ready to dwell on what her and Bucky were to each other or if what he claimed to feel for her was real, she was looking forward to their outing. Even if it was just getting groceries and running other errands, after two years of being alone the idea of having someone to do it with made her happy.

She learned how to do a lot of things by watching others over the years.

In the beginning, it was for simple things like figuring out how she was supposed to interact with others – how to hail a cab, order a meal at a restaurant, navigate public transit, buy the things she needed (big and small) – essentially how to pass for normal when her upbringing made her everything but.

It was silly, but she noticed early on when she braved grocery stores that when people went shopping together they took on different roles. Someone always settled in, often without any prompting, to push the shopping cart while the other manned the list and plucked items off the shelves.

She managed fine on her own, of course, but it looked…so normal, so comfortable.

Would it feel like that with Bucky, she wondered.

Hair thoroughly rinsed, she moved onto shaving.

As she spread the gel over her legs, she continued to wonder - and worry - about spending the day with Bucky. Would he like the diner? Did he really want to get his hair cut? Had she been too pushy with that? He said it’d be fine, ‘normal’, but maybe the day she had planned was too dull?

Irina couldn’t help but pout.

Here he was in Cape Breton with her, after two long years apart, and she hadn’t even considered planning something fun.

She tossed her razor in the corner of the shower and huffed as she grabbed the body wash.

Nova Scotia was beautiful.

There were so many trails and parks they could explore. They could go whale watching, or camping. There were the waterfalls at Cape Breton Highlands National Park she’d always wanted to see, and it was the perfect day to go down to the beach…

And she was taking him grocery shopping.

She turned off the water and wrung out her hair before stepping out of the shower.

All of her ‘observing’ clearly failed to prepare her for hosting a guest.

As she dried herself off, she wracked her mind for ways to salvage the day.

_Louisbourg! He’d love to see that old fort!_

Berating herself for not thinking of it sooner, she tossed aside the towel and grabbed the panties and bra at the top of the pile on the vanity. Her damp skin made getting her bra on difficult and she swore as the material refused to slide.

_If we leave now we can make it to Louisbourg a little before noon…that’d leave plenty of time to explore, get some souvenirs, have dinner, and head home…_

The hooks of her bra clasp scratched her.

“Fuck!”

She grabbed her discarded towel, hurried to dry herself off some more, and tried again. Mercifully, the material slid around her easier and she was able to pull it on. The sting of the scratches subsided as her mind churned with ideas.

_Bucky likes history, right? Right? Okay, maybe it’s a little dumb but it’s better than taking him along for groceries!_

Reinvigorated, she quickly finished dressing and brushed her hair.

She couldn’t wait to tell Bucky.

_Louisbourg! Fuck, why didn’t I think of it sooner!_

She skidded to a halt once she opened the bathroom door though.

Sampson and Beau weren’t in her room.

_Huh._

They were so predictable, she fully expected them to be lounging on her unmade bed. It was just what they did after eating their breakfast.

How could Sampson start his day without rubbing his dirty face all over her bedding?

She stepped a bit closer to her bed to check the sheets and noticed from the corner of her eye that her bedroom door was opened a bit more than she left it.

_What the…_

She opened it, and upon looking out into the hall, saw that Bucky’s bedroom door was open.

She couldn’t hear the telltale click of dog nails on the hardwood floor downstairs, but she could hear the muted thump of Beau’s wagging tail hitting something…inside Bucky’s room.

Curious, she crossed the hallway and nudged his door open.

“Oh my god…”

Beau was stretched out on his belly beside Bucky, his tail smacking the duvet with each wag. He looked back over his shoulder at her, his big brown eyes full of an innocence Irina knew he sorely lacked. Sampson was under the blankets on Bucky’s other side, the little spoon in what had to be the cutest cuddle-session Irina had ever seen.

Bucky stirred under the duvet, stretching and slipping his arm out to hug Sampson closer to him.

“Morin’,” he mumbled sleepily, not lifting his head from the pillow.

In his half-conscious state, his Brooklyn drawl was more noticeable, and she had to bite her lip to stifle the sharp, excited breath she took.

“You talking to me or the dogs?” she teased.

Bucky smiled, finally opening his eyes as she rounded the bed.

_My god…_

He had no business being so gorgeous. Hell, no one did; not when they’d just woken up and hadn’t even rolled out of bed!

“Would you be mad if I said both?”

She laughed.

“No, no, I wouldn’t.”

She pulled back the duvet a bit to sit on the edge of the bed beside Sampson.

“Can I ask how they swindled you into this?”

Bucky hummed, sinking back into the pillows as bit as he hugged Sampson closer. He chuckled as the motion pulled a long groan from the dog.

“Woke up to whining and scratching at the door,” he explained, “thought maybe it was you –

Irina playfully smacked his arm, only to be overcome with a wave of warm, fluttering tingles when he grabbed and held her hand.

“But then a frustrated little bark proved me wrong,” he continued, “guess they thought you were taking too long in the shower…”

“I guess,” Irina mumbled softly, biting her lip as she used her free hand to pet Sampson, “they’re lucky their so handsome…”

Bucky let go of Irina’s hand to roll onto his back and stretch, raising his arms over his head as he did. Beau hopped off the bed and Bucky stilled, eyeing the retreating dog with sad eyes.

She’d long developed an immunity to the puppy-dog eyes Beau and Sampson gave her. But Bucky’s? She couldn’t think of anything she’d say no to if he gave her that look.

“Aw, come back, boy,” he pouted, “come on, there’s room!”

He pat the empty spot beside him, but Beau ignored him and headed downstairs.

Irina couldn’t keep the amusement from her features.

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Kind of hard not to,” he mumbled, “but look…”

He pulled the covers back from the spot Beau had been occupying and gave her a sweet, hopeful look.

“Now there’s room for you.”

Irina’s laugh was mirthless, but her eyes betrayed her delight.

“Is there now?”

He had the audacity to pat the spot. Coupled with the look he’d given her, she could hardly say no.

“Fine,” she said with a heavy, exaggerated sigh as she rose and slowly walked around the bed.

When she sat back down, he sat up enough to slip his arm around her waist and pull her closer.

“B-Bucky…”

Excitement and worry hit her so suddenly, it felt like her heart was in her throat.

What did she want to allow?

She was wary of giving in. While he claimed to love her and she wanted more than anything to believe him, it was too soon. Too unstable.

But, fuck, it felt so good too. So right.

His smile was still sinfully sweet but had a tinge of nervousness that hadn’t been there prior. He’d loosened his hold on her as her hip touched his, but his hand lingered on her thigh.

“This okay?” he asked in a whisper.

_Yes._

Irina nodded and let out a shaky breath. Some of the tension she had been holding onto left, and she shifted so her thigh touched his side.

He was still looking at her and, a bit overwhelmed, she kept her gaze downward.

It was like they were in their own little bubble. There was only the warmth of him, the softness of the sheets, and the gentle pressure of his hand on her bare thigh.

She barely registered Sampson slip from the bed and leave the room.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked quietly, her voice strained.

She couldn’t look up at him, so she toyed with the frayed details of her jean shorts.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed him nodding.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.”

“I’d meant to let you sleep longer, honestly. But Beau –

“I can’t imagine him being anything less than the best boy.”

Irina guffawed, risking a quick look up at him.

The soft smirk on his lips made her heart skip a beat.

“I see he’s got you wrapped around his paw already.”

“Nah, he’s just a good dog,” Bucky said with a teasing look, fingers joining hers at the frayed edge of her shorts, “where did you get him?”

Irina felt her chest tighten as his fingers grazed her own.

“I found him,” she admitted, “a month or so after I got here. I was driving into town and he was on the side of the road.”

Bucky’s expression fell.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “that stretch of road…its common for people to dump unwanted pets there. Beau was emaciated. This…skeleton of a dog, covered in sores and missing fur in places. I pulled over…coaxed him into my car with some crackers I had on me. Took him to the vet, got him better, and…he’s been with me ever since.”

“And Sampson?”

“Same stretch of road, not long after I found Beau. He’d been hit by a car and was in the ditch. Poor guy had a broken leg and pelvis.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Yeah,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “I still keep an eye out on that road; check the ditches, you know? You never know…”

Bucky rubbed her thigh.

“They’re lucky they found you,” he said gently.

“I’m lucky to have them,” she said, hating how cheesy it sounded but unable to deny it, “it helps…having something you’re responsible for. They motivated me to make this work.”

She glanced around the room.

“Early on…I wasn’t sure I could have something like this. Something so…normal.”

She felt his gaze on her.

“It looks good on you.”

She turned back to him, confused.

“Happiness…wholeness,” he clarified, a smirk on his lips, “though I do think that color looks good on you too.”

He lightly tugged on the bottom of her tank top to indicate what he was referring to.

The blue tank she wore wasn’t anything special, but the compliment was sweet regardless.

“Oh,” Irina brushed her hair back, “thank you.”

When she looked back up at him though, his smirk had turned mischievous.

She didn’t trust it one bit.

“What?”

He shook his head and sat up more against the pillows.

“What?” she demanded more firmly.

He chuckled and she immediately flushed red in embarrassment.

_He wouldn’t dare…_

“I was just thinkin’ how much better that lighter shade of blue was on you last night…”

Irina gasped.

Apparently, he dared.

“Bucky!”

She smacked him and he burst out laughing, quickly grabbing her hand as she went to smack him again.

“Let go of me!” Irina snapped, mortified, “I didn’t know it was so see-through!”

Bucky was in hysterics.

“It wasn’t intentional!” she insisted, weakly trying to break free of his hold, “Bucky!”

This was it. This was how she was going to die.

Embarrassment.

He pulled her close and she curled up into herself, trying to hide her beet-red face.

_Oh, god, just kill me now…_

“I’m just teasing,” he managed, before descending into another fit of laughter, his forehead pressed to her back.

“No you’re not!” she countered, “you’re being an ass!”

She whined as he rolled her over.

It hit her that she was on her back beside him. So close she could feel the warmth of his body stretched out beside her. So close that if she let her hands fall from her face, he’d surely be just over her.

Close enough to kiss.

Close enough to –

“Irina, look at me,” he grabbed her wrist but made no move to pry her hands away, “Irina –

She huffed and slowly moved her hands.

Just as she suspected, he was leaning over her.

The barely contained, shit-eating grin he was sporting made her blood boil.

“It wasn’t intentional!” she said firmly, poking his metal shoulder, “it’s my favourite nighty –

“Mine too.”

She slapped his cheek, although he was too close for her to get enough momentum to actually make it hurt.

“It’s my favourite! I-It was more worn out than I thought! I live alone! How was I supposed to know it was so –

“You have mirrors, baby.”

‘Baby’ made her heart swell, despite her strong desire to melt into the mattress and disappear.

Did he have a point? Yes.

Was she going to concede that? Hell, no.

“I wouldn’t parade around like that in front of you!”

He pouted.

“Never?”

Irina stammered, backed into a corner and completely lost as to what to say.

She wasn’t afraid of him, but she was afraid of where this was going.

She liked having him close, loved this lighthearted, flirty side of himself he had revealed, but she was conflicted as to what to do with it.

Push him away, pull him close…

Her hesitation let the hurt from the previous day flood back in.

_It…it’s too much, too fast…_

The room was quiet. Bucky had caught the shift of something in her eyes that told him to pause – both his teasing and his touch.

“Irina?”

When she remained silent, he gently brushed her hair back out of her face.

“Baby?”

Irina took a deep breath, her chest rising high with it.

Bucky’s gaze travelled down her, taking stock of her body language, and he quickly pulled back, sitting up and putting more distance between them.

“Irina…baby…I’m so sorry. I…”

She shakingly sat up, strangely a bit lightheaded. But as she tucked her hair behind her ears, she felt like she was able to think.

The entire energy of the room had shifted, and it clicked for Irina when she recognized the far-off look in his eyes.

_Oh…oh, shit…_

She grabbed his flesh hand.

“Hey,” she squeezed it hard, “look at me.”

He reluctantly did, albeit slowly.

Tears had welled in his eyes, unshed, but clinging to his lashes.

It broke her heart.

“I wasn’t worried about you pushing me too far, okay? I just wasn’t sure what I wanted to do and…thought maybe it was too much too fast.”

Irina shifted to her knees and sat close to him. She kept a firm grasp on his hand.

“What I mean,” she began, “is that I know if I say ‘no’ you’ll stop. I’m not afraid of you.”

She brought his hand up, kissing his knuckles.

“You didn’t say no,” he pointed out in a barely-there voice, “you just shut down…”

“I was thinking. About what I wanted, how far I wanted to go. I was a bit overwhelmed. I’m sorry I didn’t voice it sooner.”

She kissed the top of his hand, the bruise from the day before nearly gone. Her lips lingered a moment before she continued down to the inside of his wrist.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” she breathed, “Bucky, I trust you. Please believe me.”

He said nothing, but the tension she saw in his jaw told her enough.

She’d been in her head, and now he was stuck in his own.

She let go of his hand to touch his face.

“Bucky, please,” she said, firmer this time, “I am not afraid of you. I trust you…”

Irina blinked away tears she hadn’t realized had welled.

“I just need time to figure things out a bit, okay? There’s still a lot of hurt, you know?”

She grazed her thumb over the apple of his cheek, and he nodded, gently covering her hand with his own and turning to press a firm kiss to the palm of her hand.

“Whatever you need,” he breathed, “however long you need…”

She smiled, melting in a far different way than she had wished to earlier.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he muttered into her palm, watery blue eyes on her, “anything.”

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” she flushed despite herself, “but you’re at your peak when you’re smiling and laughing like you just were.”

Her bravery was rewarded by the tiniest hint of red adorning his cheeks and a barely contained smirk being pressed to her palm.

She beamed.

“Is James Buchanan Barnes blushing?”

He kissed her hand again before lowering it and snorting in amusement.

“Yeah…well…don’t get many compliments,” he quirked his brow, “not like that at least.”

“What kind of compliments do you get?”

“Nothin’ about me,” he squeezed her hand, “usually just about a good shot I made, something I did on a mission…that sort.”

That simply wouldn’t do.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Irina said with a smirk, “I’ll have to see what I can do to rectify it.”

His cockeyed grin was startling.

_Yup…this is his peak._

She tucked his hair behind his ear.

“We don’t have to do groceries today,” she said softly, “there’s a fort from the 18th century in Louisbourg I thought maybe you’d like to see instead.”

He chuckled.

“I’m old, baby, but I’m not that old.”

Irina rolled her eyes.

“I just thought you’d like the history of it,” she reasoned, “but we can do something else instead.”

“Do we still need groceries?”

“Well…yes, but –

“Then we’ll go get groceries,” he patted her hand, “go on, get.”

“Excuse me?”

Her wide-eyed look had him laughing.

“I’ve got to get changed.”

_Oh…yeah…that…right._

Irina slipped off the bed, straightening her tank top and making for the door.

“I’ll go get your clean clothes from the laundry room –

“Baby?”

She stopped.

“Yes?”

“I’d be happy to go to Louisbourg with you another day,” he smiled, then seeing her hesitation, added, “really.”

She shifted nervously on her feet.

She knew he’d been joking when he mentioned his age, but it still made her question her idea. Especially given how certain she’d been.

“Really?”

His eyes crinkled a bit when he smiled.

“Really, really.”

* * *

“You sure you’re okay with driving?”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Bucky nodded, “’Dolly’s’.”

Irina rolled her eyes.

“Do you know the way there?”

His hesitation was adorable.

“No.”

“Then I’ll drive,” Irina shook the keys, “get in, handsome.”

Bucky chuckled as he opened the passenger side door.

“Handsome?”

Irina blushed and brushed it off as she buckled herself in.

“It just kinda slipped out.”

They pulled away from the house, and Irina didn’t fail to notice his less than tactful backward glance.

“You sure the boys are okay?”

“They’ll be fine,” she assured him, “got the list?”

Bucky twisted to pull it awkwardly out of his back pocket, raising it in triumph once it was freed.

“The bags?”

“At my feet,” he kicked at them, “you saw me leave the house with them!”

She dismissed his accusation with a wave of her hand.

Bucky huffed and turned his focus back to the list.

“So we need…everything.”

His use of ‘we’ didn’t go unnoticed, but she stifled her fond grin and focused on the winding road.

“Pretty much,” she admitted as they pulled onto the main road, “that’s just the essentials, don’t be afraid to get whatever you want too.”

He nodded, tucking it back in his pocket.

“Is ‘Dolly’s’ your favourite breakfast joint then?”

“It’s good, not my favourite though. But it’s the closest to us, and if I don’t eat soon I might eat that list.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a smirk, “though I would like to see you try to get it right now.”

* * *

Irina smiled and thanked the waiter as he took their menus.

She’d hesitated briefly, a little self-conscious in front of Bucky, before placing her usual order – blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. To her delight though, he’d ordered near the same meal, asking for poached eggs instead and opting for coffee where she’d chosen water.

Bucky sat across from her in the cramped booth, humming happily as he sipped his coffee.

Irina watched him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“That has to be too hot to drink.”

He gave a little shrug.

“First sip’s the best.”

_He’s going to fit in well in Canada…_

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He eyed her strangely as he sat his mug down.

“Do you not like coffee?”

The disgust in his expression when she shook her head made her chuckle.

“Have I offended you?”

“Hmm,” he went to take another sip, “don’t think I can look at you the same…”

She snorted.

“And here I was going to suggest we pick up a coffee maker while we’re out today…”

The soft look he gave her made her smile and as they lapsed into comfortable silence, with Bucky watching the goings on out the window, she tried to make sense of it.

Not twenty-four hours ago, he’d been quiet and withdrawn. Nothing like the solider she’d known as a child, and certainly nothing like the man she’d met at the Avenger’s compound years later.

Watered down, she realized; like when she mixed too much titanium white into a vibrant hue while painting.

The frailty that had enveloped him and shocked her had lessened significantly as well. He seemed to stand a bit taller, to better fill out his muscular frame.

He’d claimed to have slept well, and Irina wondered if that was the crux of it. She certainly didn’t feel confident chalking it up to his long overdue shave. There was no way it was so simple, but she couldn’t argue with Steve’s concerns that he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, having turned his focus back to her.

He seemed a bit self-conscious.

“Just tryin’ to figure you out,” she said softly, “you’re…different than you were yesterday.”

The diner was full with the morning rush of guests, each engrossed in the conversation happening at their own table. Nonetheless she knew some things were better saved for home or the car.

“I feel different,” he admitted, “better.”

She kept quiet. The way his brow was furrowed, she assumed he was still considering her words.

After another sip of coffee, he sighed.

“It’s tough to explain how hard the last two years have been. I feel like I’ve aged more in the last few months than I have in the last decade.”

She nodded.

When she’d helped him shave, she had noticed more grey hairs than she remembered him having. The lines near his eyes and on his forehead were a bit more noticeable and she’d spotted a few new scars on him that morning.

He might not be able to describe it, but she saw on his body just how hard it had been.

“I really did think it was for the best,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“And I am sorry.”

He smiled.

“I know that too.”

Their meals came and they both dug in after mumbling a hurried thanks to the waiter. She realized just how hungry she was the second the syrup from her pancakes touched her lips.

“Oh my god,” she sank into her seat.

‘Dolly’s’ might not have been her favourite place to go for breakfast, but they used real maple syrup and she wanted to cry it tasted so good.

Bucky seemed equally affected.

“If this isn’t your favourite,” he pointed to his plate with his fork, “I don’t think I can handle your number one spot.”

“We’ll build up to it,” she laughed.

When they’d both finished, the waiter returned. Irina briefly considered taking the man up on the offer of a slice of banana bread – homemade of course – but Irina feared if she said yes Bucky would have to carry her to the car.

“Just the bill, please,” she managed.

“One,” Bucky added, before looking to Irina, “it’s on me.”

She considered arguing him, he was her guest after all, but he’d already grabbed his wallet from his back pocket.

Plus, he looked so eager to pay it was adorable.

“Such the gentleman,” she said instead, playfully tapping her foot against his leg under the table.

“I try.”

But when the waiter returned with the debit machine and saw Bucky’s card, his suave gesture was foiled.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not set up to take American cards.”

Immediately deflated, Bucky put back his card and eyed the contents of his wallet sheepishly.

“I’ve got it,” she fetched her wallet from her purse, “thank you.”

As Irina folded the receipt up and tucked it in her wallet, she caught glimpse of Bucky’s pout.

She spoke once the waiter had left.

“It’s okay, Bucky. You really didn’t have to –

“I know,” he huffed under his breath, “I wanted to.”

_Of course he did._

“You’ll get another chance, promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, I thought I'd mention that after weeks of being stalled on this a simple change of computer keyboard seemed to get me back into the swing of things (go figure). I'd bought a new one since the letters were worn off on my original, but the new one had keys that would stick and it was threatening to drive me insane.
> 
> Honestly, if I had to correct 'thhheeeeee' to 'the' one more time that keyboard was going out the window!
> 
> That night I switched the keyboards out, I wrote 4,200 words in a single sitting...so I guess it did the trick!
> 
> Also, I hope you are all holding up well in this crazy Covid world. Stay safe!


	11. X: Close, Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Irina's first day together (part two).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...remember when I said I'd post this chapter in a respectable amount of time...like, almost four months ago? 
> 
> Urgh, I'm despicable. In my defence, I've been working on this on and off in that time and in the last couple days, managed to find the gusto to get this finished. Also...remember when I said I split the previous chapter up because 10k words would have been to clunky a chapter? Well...whoops! In my outline for this story, this chapter had five points I wanted to cover...and those five points took over thirty pages in my word doc to cover...
> 
> Whoops!
> 
> I do hope you all enjoy this chapter. I can assure you the fluff is not going to last forever, so best enjoy it while it lasts! Copious amounts of smut and angst are coming your way!

They headed to the mall after leaving the diner with the goal of getting Bucky a haircut, some summer clothes…and a Canadian debit card.

“I feel like shit,” Bucky grumbled as she put the car in park and turned it off, “can’t believe that happened…”

Irina offered him a sympathetic smile.

He’d been pouting since they left the diner, poorly attempting to conceal it by keeping his focus out the window.

It was adorable.

“Bucky, it’s really okay.”

He hardly seemed convinced.

“But –

“It’s Steve’s fault, really,” she offered, “if he’d given you some warning…maybe been honest with you about why you were coming here, you could have been prepared.”

Quirking his brow, he seemed to consider her words.

“I do like it being Steve’s fault…”

Irina couldn’t conceal her amused smirk.

“We’ll get you sorted out once the bank opens,” she checked her phone for the time, “the barber should be open by now though, if you wanna see about getting that mop tamed.”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, frowning as he looked at his reflection in the sideview mirror.

“Guess I’d better. You won’t wanna be seen with me otherwise…”

Irina rolled her eyes. She reached over to snatch her purse from where she’d tucked it between the console and his feet, lightly touching his metal arm as she did.

“Don’t be like that,” she chided, “even if you wanted to keep the hippy look, I’d be happy to be seen in public with you.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, teasing, but it was true. Irina realized it as the words passed her lips. It didn’t matter what he did with his hair, what he wore, or if he chose to keep his metal arm concealed or not…he was here, with her.

It seemed to be too good to be true.

“Really,” she added in a hushed voice when the silence in the car became suffocating.

Early on in her exile, she’d dreamt of it – him finding her, choosing her, making a life with her. She knew it was impossible though, so she kept running; even when her heart ached and screamed at her to slow down.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to face what she wanted them to be yet, but she wasn’t alone anymore.

He’d caught up.

His laugh was deep and husky, reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. Almost like a growl.

It made her chest tighten and her face flush, and she risked a quick look up as she tugged her purse free.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky squeezed her hand, “let’s go try this ‘normal’ thing you’ve been teasing me with.”

Her smile was free, beaming. And when they got out of the car, and he rounded the car and nervously took her hand, her heart fluttered.

* * *

Bucky forced himself to keep his grip on her hand loose. She was tolerating his touch and smiling so sweet. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel trapped.

As they headed for the mall entrance, Bucky watched her from the corner of his eye.

He half expected her to disappear, for her to fade away into nothingness as he woke from his dream, sweat-slicked and screaming in his bed in the compound. But she didn’t. Her hand remained in his, and when he risked lacing his fingers with hers, she didn’t pull away.

He let out a tight breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and his heart raced.

How was it like this, after two years? So…comfortable?

“Oh, a sale!” Irina said cheerfully as they walked past a clothing store that was just opening for the day.

Bucky smiled. He wanted to kiss her knuckles, her cheeks, her lips. He wanted to forget the barber and pull her back towards the sale she’d been eyeing.

Irina deserved to be spoiled.

She deserved to be taken care of and treated right.

The thought saddened him though.

Until now, everything between them had been mired in fear and sadness. Moments that should have been precious were tarnished, made foul by the long reach of Hydra’s abuse.

_‘I-I don’t want to do this…please…don’t do this…’_

The memory of her words were like iron fingers around his throat.

He’d raped her. Pined her down and stolen something that wasn’t his to take. Time didn’t dull the guilt, nor did laying the blame at Mikhailov’s feet.

His first time with her had been forced. She’d been in pain, so afraid that even now if he dwelled too much on the memory of it his stomach churned. And yet she’d sought him out when she broke free of Hydra...overlooking the fact that he hadn’t gone back for her to run blindly into a world she didn’t understand.

All to find him.

He squeezed her hand.

“Why don’t you go and check it out? I can find the barber.”

She stopped and looked up at him, seemingly surprised by the offer, but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded.

“You won’t get lost?”

He chuckled.

“I’ll manage,” he resisted the urge to kiss her, “it’s a small mall, and there are maps.”

She let go of his hand, and his heart plummeted in an instant.

Had he overstepped somehow?

Before he could run through the countless reasons that could possibly explain the loss of contact, she began to rifle through her purse.

“If you’re sure,” she pulled out her wallet, “here, let me give you one of my cards.”

She pulled out a credit card, and he frowned.

Which amused her to no end, if the way she bit her lip to control her grin was any indication.

“Unless you plan on sweettalking the barber into giving you a free haircut, you’ll need this.”

_Well…she makes a good point…_

Bucky sighed, reluctantly taking the card.

“Fine…”

Still smiling, she shoved her wallet back in her purse and leaned in close to him. He met her gaze and the energy between them shifted.

“Irina…”

He thought - he hoped - she might kiss him. She was so close; it wouldn’t take anything for her to close the distance…

_Please…please kiss me, sweetheart…_

He didn’t deserve her kisses, didn’t deserve a second chance, but as she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, he was foolish enough to hope.

_God, I miss those lips…_

Nervous and excited, he sucked in a tight breath.

They’d never kissed when Mikhailov pushed them together. Their first kiss had been messy and heated in the motel room, nothing at all like what she deserved.

He cursed himself inwardly.

Nothing that had happened between them had been as she ought to have…

Something flickered in her eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek, taking a small step back and shakingly touching his side.

It wasn’t the kiss he craved, but it was a touch.

Soft and simple and freely given.

“Don’t worry. The bank will be open soon, and we’ll make sure you get your own bank account. I know you don’t want to keep using mine…”

_Why is she so sweet? So perfect?_

He took her hand, guiding it gently from his side. Before he could second guess himself he pressed a quick, light kiss to the top of her hand before squeezing it affectionately.

He didn’t miss her look of surprise, nor the blush on her cheeks.

“B-Bucky…”

Her voice was soft, nervous.

So much had changed for her in the last twenty-four hours. As jarring as it was for him to see her after so long, it had to be more unsettling for her. Navigating this new reality they found themselves in…a place where they had a real chance at being together, a chance to get to know each other without violence and fear…it was overwhelming.

“Thank you, Irina,” he spoke quietly, gaze fixed on her hand in his, “really.”

He look a deep breath. She hadn’t pulled her hand back, but she was nervous, that much he knew. He knew she could use a moment to collect herself (and treat herself) without him lurking over her shoulder.

“Take your time,” Bucky nodded to the store with the sale they’d just passed, “I mean it. There’s no rush.”

Irina eyed the sale. With her free hand she fiddled with the strap of her purse as she considered his words.

“If it’s really okay…”

“It is.”

She managed a small smile.

“Well, okay. Um, if you need it…the pin for that card is…um…0310.”

That surprised him, but he managed to conceal it well enough by keeping a straight face.

_My birthday. She…why would she…has she always…_

“Thanks, baby,” he smirked, “now get.”

She chuckled.

“Get?”

“You heard me,” he teased, “get shopping. I’ll meet you back here.”

Irina gave him a skeptical look but headed towards the store.

_Okay…haircut then find the bank…_

She stopped as she neared the storefront, glancing back at him over her shoulder as though she feared he’d have already disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He didn’t fault her that.

“I’ll meet you here,” he assured her with a smile, “promise.”

Her smile seemed a bit forced, but she continued into the store.

Bucky didn’t walk away until he saw her start to peruse the clothes on the rack and even then he mirrored her, glancing back to make sure she hadn’t vanished from the spot she’d been not five second prior.

He found a mall map quickly and upon realizing just how shockingly small the mall was, headed a few stores down and followed the bend of the old, tiled hall as it veered right. The barber was the only shop open in the entire row, but it didn’t seem overly busy.

Eager to get things wrapped up so he could get back to Irina, he approached the storefront with Irina’s card weighing heavy in his pocket.

* * *

It embarrassed her how quickly her mind had leapt to it – the thought that he wouldn’t come back. It had been instant, jarring, and worst of all she hadn’t even had the tact to attempt to conceal it.

Irina continued to berate herself as she rifled through the clothing racks, frowning as she chose a few things to try on.

_Why can’t it be easier?_

He was here, he’d apologized and agreed to give her the time she needed. How could that not be enough to assuage her worries? After all, he could have fled her home in the night if he really wanted to and why would he after spending so long chasing her?

No, no she was just being paranoid.

Except realizing that didn’t make her feel any better, didn’t smother the worrying voice in the back of her mind.

Bucky would come to see just how hard it was for them to be together and leave. He’d make a life with someone else and she’d be alone and heartbroken again. It would either be that, she reasoned, or they’d give it an honest shot and she’d still wind up hurt when they both realized all there was between them was sex.

She sighed.

Either way she’d get hurt.

_He’s not going to leave. He said he’s chosen me; we’re going to make it work._

Bound and determined not to let her worries ruin their day, Irina gathered up all her strength and pushed them down deep.

She was just being ridiculous anyway.

* * *

Bucky was in and out of the barber in twenty minutes. He felt a bit less like a homeless person with his hair cut short, though he hadn’t really recognized himself in the mirror when the man was finished.

Even as he headed toward the bank it felt strange to see his reflection so altered in the storefront windows he passed.

He hoped Irina would like it.

There were a couple of banks in the mall, despite it small size. Bucky had no clue which was the better option, so he just looked to Irina’s bank card and went with that one. It took a bit longer to get him situated there. He’d never opened a modern bank account on his own, but the woman who helped him was patient enough. Though he figured that realizing the kind of money he had to move from his American account contributed greatly to that patience.

In the end, he walked out with his own bank account and card, and with far more paperwork and credit card brochures than he really wanted to have.

Rolling it all up, he wedged it in his back pocket and decided to check back in with Irina.

She wasn’t in the store he’d left her at and while it immediately made him anxious, he found her quickly, only two stores down.

_Thank fucking god…_

It took a moment for the erratic thundering of his heart to calm.

_Jesus, fuck…_

It was embarrassing and he was immensely grateful Steve and Wanda (and her frustrating powers) weren’t nearby to glimpse his sudden panic.

Was he that terrified, that possessive of her?

_Yes…yes I am…_

Irina was sorting through another rack of clothes, a bag from the previous store hanging from her arm.

He smiled at the sight of her so relaxed.

So relaxed…and so gorgeous.

She wasn’t tall, but in her frayed jean shorts her legs looked long. Her tank top was modestly cut, but the way it hugged her figure made him want to reach out and caress the tantalizing curve of her waist downward.

Bucky swallowed hard. It felt wrong to look at her like that, to think of her like that, but he couldn’t help it. After two long years, there she was; looking good enough to hug and kiss –

Except he couldn’t.

It was a sad thought, but one he also realized was incredibly selfish.

Irina – understandably - needed time. Time to forgive, time to grow comfortable…

Bucky smiled as Irina draped a shirt to try on over her arm, hesitated, then grabbed another in a different color.

_Good girl._

Not wanting to intrude and risk making her feel rushed, Bucky looked around at the shops that had opened. Steve hadn’t packed him much to wear given it was summertime and humid, so he figured it was wise to start looking for some more comfortable clothes.

As he tried to make sense of the strange and unfamiliar clothing stores around him, a jeweller a couple stores down caught his eye and - struck with an idea - he decided getting new clothes could wait just a bit longer.

He had a _much_ better idea.

* * *

Irina knew she’d gone a little bit overboard, but when the saleswoman rang through her order and told her the total after folding and bagging her items, she realized just _how_ overboard she’d gone.

_Well, fuck…_

Though she did _like_ shopping for clothes and it _had_ been a while since she’d indulged, it still felt a bit excessive and she eyed her bags sitting on the counter.

As she inwardly considered which of the summer dresses she’d put back, a familiar hand settled on the small of her back.

_What the –_

Irina jumped despite herself.

“Irina?”

It embarrassed her but when her gaze snapped to him, her angry quip turned to dust on her lips.

Bucky looked…well, fucking gorgeous was the only way to describe him. The barber had left a bit of length to his hair. It was brushed back on top, and neatly tapered on the sides, but didn’t look laden with product or like it required any real maintenance on his part.

_Kind of…windblown…_

She immediately wanted to run her fingers through it.

“Sorry. Just me, baby,” he said softly with a smile, leaning into her a bit, “you okay?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

She hadn’t heard him approach which, given the many years she’d spent honing her skills, was alarming.

Hydra would be disappointed if they’d been a fly on the wall.

“How would you like to pay, ma’am?” the saleswoman asked curtly, seemingly irritated her time was being taken up at all.

Irina didn’t like it, but she hated the way she looked at Bucky even more.

_Back off you miserable –_

“I’ve got it,” Bucky said with a friendly smirk to the saleswoman, “here you are.”

He handed the woman a card that wasn’t hers.

_Huh._

He must have figured out the bank on his own, Irina surmised.

“Thank you, sir.”

As her purchase was finally processed, Irina couldn’t help but gawk at Bucky.

He was painfully gorgeous, yes, but he also looked…happier? More comfortable? Irina wasn’t sure how to describe it, she just knew it was a good look for him.

She took her bags from the saleswoman, mumbled a half-hearted thanks to her, and turned to leave the shop. Bucky’s hand remained on the small of her back.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Irina said finally as they stepped into the corridor, “I had the money.”

“Then why were you hesitating,” he countered, smirking.

Irina sat her bags down on one of the benches in the middle of the hall.

She shrugged.

“A girl can only have so many dresses. I was just…trying to figure out if it was worth spending the money to get more.”

“If you liked the dresses then they’re worth getting,” he said, sitting his bags down beside hers.

“Well…thank you,” she nodded to his bags, “you were productive.”

Admittedly, it didn’t look like he’d gotten too much – the bags were hardly stuffed – but it was more than she expected him to do without a bit of help.

Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah, well, it was either wear the stuff Steve packed for me and sweat my balls off, go naked, or brave the stores.”

His list of options made her laugh.

“Well, good on your for braving the stores,” she turned to him and fondly touched his chest, “and I like your haircut.”

He gave a dramatic sigh of relief that she felt against her palm.

“Oh, thank god,” he ran his fingers through his hair and she nearly swooned, “still feels a bit strange, but I’ll get used to it.”

Irina couldn’t help it. She reached up and tentatively brushed back a stubborn strand that just didn’t seem to want to behave. When it was in place, her fingers lingered.

When he’d showered the night before, he’d used her shampoo – how was his hair so much softer than her own?

She caught the warm, soft look he was giving her and reluctantly pulled away.

“Well…”

She cleared her throat.

“Haircut and bank visit can be crossed from our to-do list,” she gave a forced smile, “and you got some summer clothes…”

“And a little something for you,” he was quick to add, “if that’s okay.”

Irina was surprised. After all, what could he have possibly gotten her? She hadn’t asked for anything, and it wasn’t like they were nearing a significant holiday…

Why would he have gotten her anything?

“You just paid for this,” she gestured to the bag her dresses were nestled in, “that’s more than enough, Bucky.”

“I disagree, but…um,” he dug into his pocket, but didn’t immediately pull out whatever it was he had concealed, “if…if you don’t like it, it’s fine. You don’t have to wear them…I, uh, just wanted to get you something…nice.”

He was nervous, adorably so, so she relented.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she assured him.

His smile didn’t scream of confidence, but he finally pulled his hand from his pocket and shakingly offered her a small box.

Irina’s eyes darted from his face to his hand and back, before she took it from him.

She immediately recognized the gold-foil logo that adorned the top of the box.

“Bucky,” she sighed heavily, looking back to him, “tell me you didn’t spend a small fortune!”

“I didn’t.”

“Bucky…”

“I didn’t,” he said with a bit more force, “really, Irina.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but her curiosity got the best of her and she opened the small box.

Pinned inside on a velvet insert sat a stunning pair of diamond stud earrings.

She gasped, mumbling his name in disbelief as she eyed the sparkling gems.

“Do you like them?”

His voice pulled her from her shocked silence. She closed the box, holding it tight in her hand, and hit him in the chest with her free hand.

“You said you didn’t spend a fortune!”

Bucky chuckled, raising his hands in defence.

“I swear I didn’t.”

In truth, she didn’t know enough about jewellery to know at a glance if they were expensive enough, but she knew the shop he’d gotten them from. For months, whenever she’d gone to the mall she’d walk past the shop and eye the jeweller’s creations displayed in the windows. She’d glimpsed the price tags, instantly been intimidated, and never ventured inside.

Unsure what to do or say, she resisted her initial urge to hit him again and turned her attention back to the small box in her hand.

“You do like them though, right?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“And you’ll wear them?”

They weren’t huge, gaudy, clunky gems. They were smaller, more practical, but that wasn’t what made her chest tighten and her breath catch in her throat.

No…it was that he’d noticed something as silly and simple as her ears being pierced in the first place.

The pearl studs she wore weren’t flashy and were often obscured by fly-away strands of hair her ponytail never seemed able to contain. Still, she wore them almost every day.

Irina licked her lips and nodded, nudging their bags aside so she could sit on the bench.

Wordlessly, she removed her pearl studs.

Bucky held out his hand and she gave him a small, nervous smile as she handed them to him to hold as she freed her new diamond studs.

The velvet insert popped free easily enough, and when she turned it over she saw how different their backs were to what she was used to.

_Not a small fortune my ass…_

She unscrewed the backs, freeing them from the insert, and began the process of fixing them in place in the lobes of her ears.

Her cheap pearl studs had a simple push back, but the ones Bucky had given her were screw backs…

The sort jewellers used for expensive earrings you’d hate to lose.

When she had them in place, Irina lightly touched her fingertips to the fine gold studs. Smiling, she looked up to find Bucky similarly pleased.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, still a bit stunned by the gift, “they’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so, baby,” he took the box from her and tucked her pearl studs inside, “I wasn’t sure if you liked yellow or white gold but…um, the lady said white gold is what people are going for nowadays…”

“I do prefer white gold,” she admitted, standing, “but honestly…I’d still love them even if you’d gone with yellow gold.”

“Really?”

Irina couldn’t find her voice, so she just nodded.

And to her surprise (and delight), Bucky kissed her forehead.

It was quick, much too quick, but the press of his lips and the warmth of that touch brought back a slew of memories that sent a tingling shiver through her body and made her eyes well up simultaneously. Right then and there she wanted to collapse into his arms and bask in the feel of his familiar, strong body enveloping her.

She’d felt so safe there…

Bucky stepped back and averted his gaze, clearly a bit embarrassed by what he’d done.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, nodding quickly, “um, lets…lets head to the grocery store then, okay? I mean…if you’re done here?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m good to go.”

Bucky tucked the box in her closest bag before grabbing them all from the bench, seemingly intent on carrying them all himself.

Irina tried to take his hand.

“I’ve got these, baby.”

His chivalry was appreciated, but Irina frowned nonetheless; another concern on her mind.

“I know, I…I was just hoping to hold your hand.”

“O-Oh.”

Bucky shuffled all the bags into his metal hand, freeing his flesh one for her.

They walked to the car holding each others hand tight.

* * *

Irina was twirling her diamond stud earring, lost in her own thoughts, when Bucky reappeared with a shopping cart.

“I return victorious,” he declared with a beaming grin, their reusable bags tucked under his arm, “nearly lost it to a guy with _no_ manners in a Hawaiian shirt, but I won that fight.”

Irina laughed.

“Well, thank god.”

Bucky pulled her list from his back pocket.

“Seriously though…I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice…”

Irina plucked the list from his hand.

“There are assholes everywhere,” she smirked, “in Canada they keep them in the grocery store.”

Since they pretty much needed everything, Irina figured they’d just go one aisle at a time, but there was one thing she wanted to get right away before she forgot.

“You okay to push?” she asked, nodding to the cart.

“Yeah, baby,” he nudged her playfully, “just lead the way.”

Irina headed towards where she knew the small appliances to be, eager to get him the coffee maker she’d teased him with at the diner.

“Wow, groceries stores nowadays have everything,” Bucky commented as they went down the main aisle.

“If you start your next sentence with ‘back in my day’ I’ll never let you live it down,” she warned with a smirk.

His awe continued as they turned down the aisle Irina needed.

“You lived at the compound,” she reminded him as he eyed the coffee makers, “Tony has an AI.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s still just…kind of amazing.”

“What?”

He shrugged.

“Just…seeing everything all in one place, available for everyone to get…”

She gave him a confused look and his expression turned sheepish.

“I’m trying really hard here not to use ‘back in my day’.”

Irina snorted as she tried to stifle her laughter.

“You’re fucking adorable,” she managed through the laughter, reaching for the coffee maker she’d eyed earlier, “how about this one?”

“That’s fine,” Bucky checked, “it doesn’t need to be fancy though.”

Irina shrugged as she read the features on the side.

She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but a lot of it did feel a bit excessive. Did he really need one that brewed ten cups worth each time? Did he really need a milk frother?

Probably not, but Irina wanted to get him a really nice one. It wasn’t quite at the same level as a pair of diamond studded earrings, but it was something that would hopefully make him happy…

“I want to get you a nice one,” she explained, putting the fancier one back and going for another, “this one’s less flashy.”

“It’s perfect.”

When she put it in their cart, she caught the fond look he was giving her and blushed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “you’re just cute.”

* * *

Irina and Bucky navigated the crowded aisles as quickly and efficiently as they could.

There weren’t too many options for grocery shopping in the area, which meant there was almost always a crowd to deal with. Irina knew to expect it…but the second she caught sight of Bucky’s clenched jaw and furrowed brow, she realized she failed to give him a heads up.

_Whoops!_

She touched his arm when he was cut off by a soccer mom in a rush and felt the metal of his arm shift under her fingertips.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

He glared at her; his brows furrowed.

“Can’t say I’m a fan of this part of ‘normal’,” he grumbled.

“Well, we’re nearly done.”

Irina checked the list and was about to declared them done, when she remembered something else she’d meant to add to it.

_Oh…right…that…_

“I…um…have a couple more things to get,” she stuttered, “they’re…on the other side of the store.”

“’s fine,” Bucky said, “you lead, I’ll follow.”

_Right._

Irina haphazardly folded the list up and shoved it in her pocket. She managed a terse nod to him before turning abruptly and hurrying back to the main aisle.

_Fuck, why am I being so goddamn weird?_

Buying tampons and pads was _hardly_ the most bizarre and ‘taboo’ thing she’d done with him -

_Who the fuck am I kidding, it doesn’t even make the list!_

Still, she felt awkward turning down the feminine hygiene aisle.

_Fuck, why is this so weird?_

She half expected Bucky to wait for her at the end with the cart, not wanting to brave the aisle himself, but he followed her without hesitation.

_Great…_

Mercifully, the two other shoppers in the aisle had left by the time Bucky reached her.

Irina bit the inside of her cheek, her focus locked onto the shelves. She could see Bucky from her periphery, and his presence made the lump in her throat thicken. When she felt like she might lose her nerve and bolt from the aisle (a horrifying thought, really), Bucky stepped away from the cart.

_Oh, fuck, please don’t make this weirder than it already is…_

He stood by her side, hand on the small of her back.

“It’s okay,” he assured her quietly, “what do you need, sweetheart?”

Irina swallowed hard and reached out for a box of tampons.

Bucky’s hand moved from her back to her hip. He hugged her to him, squeezing her affectionately as he kissed the top of her head.

“’m sorry, baby. I could have waited by the checkout if –

“No,” Irina shook her head, still not looking at him, “no…I’m just being weird, it’s okay.”

Bucky gave her the room she needed to turn and put the box of tampons and package of pads she’d sheepishly grabbed into the cart.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I don’t know why I’m being so weird. We’re good to check out now…”

He tucked her flyaway hair behind her ear and she finally risked a real glance at him.

His expression was soft and while it made the odd, thick feeling in her throat abate, it didn’t make her feel any less ridiculous.

“I’m not going to burst into flames if I get within a foot of tampons, sweetheart,” he whispered, a light chuckle leaving him, “it’s okay. I’m sure some men wouldn’t want to be here…but I’m fine. Really.”

“You are?”

His fingers left her hair and grazed along her jaw. The icy blues she adored were a bit darker, and she suddenly felt incredibly exposed.

There they were – in the feminine hygiene aisle of a busy grocery store – and he was looking at her like…like _that_ …

Irina’s breath caught.

The corner of his mouth twitched, quirking into the tiniest hint of a smirk as he looked at her.

“Yeah…”

She eyed the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard.

“Hardly the strangest thing we’ve done, hmm?”

She flushed, cheeks red and warm.

With a smile, Bucky kissed her brow.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s pay and get the hell outta here.”

* * *

The drive home was quiet but comfortable. Bucky held her free hand as she drove, his focus on the fields and groves they passed. They’d made good time, all things considered. The bulk of the day was still ahead of them, and Irina wasn’t sure what they’d do after unloading things and tending to the dogs.

Was that when things would get uncomfortable?

Irina’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and she tried not to do the same to his hand in hers. His metal hand could take it, but the last thing she wanted was to alert him to her rising anxiety.

“What were you thinking for dinner?” he asked, finally breaking the silence as they turned down the last sideroad.

Bucky had insisted on paying when they got to the till at the grocery store, only relenting to let her buy the coffee maker she’d been adamant about getting him. She figured between that and the diamond stud earrings he “hadn’t spent a fortune on”, he’d more than earned a good meal.

“I make a great meatloaf,” she offered, “it might not sound fancy, but I make a spicy cheese sauce for it that’s game-changing.”

His laughter, warm and deep, made her shiver.

“Yeah, baby, that’d be great.”

Beau erupted into an excited, chaotic fit of loud howls the second they pulled up to the house. Sampson had joined in by the time they’d popped the trunk. The walls practically shook from their combined theatrics. 

“You said they’d be fine,” Bucky said with a pout, eyeing the front door as Irina grabbed some of their bags, “that doesn’t sound fine…”

She rolled her eyes.

“They were sawing lumber until two seconds ago, I promise you,” she elbowed him, “you gonna help me here or is all the heavy lifting on me?”

His hands on her hips made her jump.

“None of it is on you,” he reached around her to take the bags from her, “unlock the door and deflect the dogs, I’ve got these.”

“Thank you…”

Bucky smirked as he slid his arm through the handle of another bag.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

‘Deflecting’ turned out to be exactly what Irina had to do the second she opened the front door. The training she given both boys went out the door. They jumped excitedly, and it was all Irina could do to keep them back, let Bucky through, and deactivate the alarm system without winding up on her ass.

“Animals!” she hollered over the madness, “you’re a bunch of animals! Where’d your manners go, hmm? _Fuck_ , Beau…Beau, stop!”

Bucky had made it to the kitchen island, but Beau hadn’t made it easy.

As he sat the bags down, Beau came up on his right and leapt up and down like a rabbit, his paws on Bucky’s arm to brace himself.

“My god,” Irina shut the front door and hurried to shoo Beau away, “stop, you little –

“I’m fine,” Bucky chuckled, finally turning his attention to the desperate hound, “I missed you too, buddy, I did!”

Irina guided Sampson to the back door, ushering him outside and calling for Beau to join him.

The stubborn hound ignored her. He didn’t budge from Bucky’s side until a soft, syrupy word from Bucky had him prancing out the door.

“I’m old news,” Irina huffed as she slid the backdoor closed, “they’ve abandoned me for you…”

“Well…Beau has at least.”

“Right,” Irina scoffed, “so I hallucinated Sampson under the covers with you – _spooning_ – this morning?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Must have.”

Irina knew the boys were only momentarily distracted and they still had a full car to unload.

She headed for the front door; a suspicious glare shot Bucky’s way.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes.”

She heard him run up behind her, had a good idea of what was coming, but still yelped when he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her up and quickly spun her around.

“Bucky!”

He laughed into the curve of her neck, hugging her tight as he put her back down.

“Jerk,” she mumbled, voice utterly lacking the bite to make it believable.

She could feel his smile against her shoulder as he nuzzled her and sighed as he made no move to let her go.

Irina couldn’t find it in herself to try to wiggle free. It felt too good. His body, strong and warm against hers. His arms around her waist…lips at her shoulder. It wore at her resolve to take things slow, to punish him by denying him what they both wanted so desperately.

“B-Bucky…”

He was so much bigger than her, so strong. She hadn’t inherited his height and while she often lamented that, she certainly didn’t now.

“Hmm?” he hummed against her shoulder.

There was an undeniable thrill there that made her heart race, and her thighs squeeze tight. Being vulnerable; feeling small and at his mercy while safe in the knowledge he’d heed her word if she asked him to stop, was overwhelming.

She felt warm, too warm, and she feared her knees would give out.

If she asked would he…would he slip his hand under her shorts?

Under her soaking wet panties?

Her head spun.

_Oh…fuck…_

She’d gone two long years without his touch, her own fingers a sad substitute for his. Alone and touch-starved, she’d distracted herself from it all by getting her new life sorted out. Now…with his arms around her…

She brought a shaky hand to his forearm.

_Does he know?_

“We should get the rest of the groceries, Bucky.”

_Does he know how badly I want him right here and now? How shamefully wet I am, just from his embrace?_

“Hmm, okay…”

He hugged her tight before letting go, a cautious hand shooting to her back as she swayed a bit.

“You okay?”

Irina nodded.

_If he bent me over the arm of the couch and tugged down my shorts, I would be…_

“Irina?”

_I wouldn’t even squirm._

She cleared her throat.

“Um, yeah, come on, before the boys lose it again.”

_He could take what he wanted…fuck me hard and rough until –_

She hurried for the door before the last of her resolve crumbled to dust.

“If the ice cream’s melted I’m blaming you,” she exclaimed, hoping to hide her discomfort and desire with feigned ambivalence and delight, “hope you can live with that!”

His hearty, deep chuckle did nothing to quell her dirty thoughts.

“I’d find a way, baby.”

* * *

When the groceries were unloaded and put away, Irina fed the dogs and decided a tour of the property was in order.

It had been one of the biggest selling features for her, after all. While the house had needed some work, the property hadn’t. It was lush and gorgeous, surrounded by old trees and natural outcrops of limestone. The path down to the wharf and beach were easy to maintain and lined with limestone blocks blanketed with crawling ivy. 

It the perfect place to settle after running for so long.

Irina rounded the kitchen island and grabbed Bucky’s hand as he put the boys’ food away.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” he asked softly.

“Just thought I’d show you around.”

She led him onto the back porch and into the fenced in backyard. Adding it was a necessary expense when Beau and Sampson came into her life, but she’d made sure to have a gate installed so her access to the lake wasn’t impeded.

“I wondered what was past here,” Bucky commented as they neared the gate.

Irina left the gate open behind them as she led him down the path.

“It’s just a wharf and a small beach,” she admitted, “but its pretty, tranquil. Sold me on buying the house honestly.”

“What made you choose Canada?”

“Hmm?”

“I just mean you could have picked anywhere in the world,” Bucky clarified, “you certainly saw a lot of it when you were running.”

Irina shrugged.

“Not really, if I’m being honest. I was on the run; I didn’t stop and check out every city I passed through. I stopped here because…well, I guess I was tired of running. I ran out of steam in Halifax and then I just…kind of wandered the province. I went from Halifax to Antigonish, then to Truro. I followed the coastline south along the Bay of Fundy and…I don’t know, I guess I was going slow enough to actually notice how beautiful this place is.”

“It is beautiful,” Bucky agreed wistfully.

When they reached the bottom of the path and the wharf came into view, he let go of her hand and walked out along it. Irina followed at her own pace, smiling as Bucky stopped near the end and took in the sights.

“Wow,” he said under his breath as he raked his fingers through his hair, “yeah, this is beautiful.”

The water was still and clear.

Peaceful.

“I’m glad you found a place like this,” he said, turning back to smile at her, “you deserve it.”

Irina moved to join him.

“Thank you.”

For a moment, they just stood in silence, taking it all in.

The bright, blue sky. The warm breeze. The call of the birds flying overhead –

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asked suddenly, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

It immediately made Irina nervous.

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you ever think of slowing down earlier? Of letting me catch up to you?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Why didn’t you then?”

“I was still so angry,” she said with a heavy sigh, “our reunion wouldn’t have been like this if I’d let you catch up back then.”

Bucky nodded, seemingly taking a moment to digest her words.

“You weren’t ready,” he mumbled.

“I wasn’t. I needed…I needed space. And I knew you were chasing me and sometimes that pissed me off but…but other times…”

He watched her closely but made no move to prompt her.

Again, Irina sighed.

“Other times I was happy that you were chasing me. I don’t know…at the time, it felt like at least in one small way you were choosing me.”

Bucky snorted in amusement.

“I chased you around the world for months. I wouldn’t call that ‘small’, Irina. It was big – _is_ – big. It’s me choosing you.”

Irina pushed past the tightening of her chest.

“Is that what this is?”

“Yes.”

“You sound so certain.”

She wanted him to be. She wanted to think that there was more behind his chasing her that pure stubbornness and pride, that he really did mean it when he claimed to love her, but it wasn’t so simple.

She was desperate not to be hurt again. Everything she knew screamed caution.

To preserve her sanity.

To spare herself more heartbreak.

To protect the fresh start she’d forged for herself on the lake in Cape Breton…

Irina couldn’t fathom picking up the pieces a second time.

“I am.”

The resolve was there, that stubborn spark in his eyes that told her _he_ at least believed in the conviction of his own words.

Maybe that was something.

“What about you?” Bucky asked sharply, “you’ve been here for months and you didn’t reach out. Would you have let me chase you forever?”

“No.”

“You sure about that?” he countered, hurt, “you said you liked the chase…”

It was a good question, but one she wasn’t sure exactly how to answer.

Had she considered reaching out to him once she stopped running and bought the house? Not really, no.

She wondered about him often and kept an eye out for updates on the Avengers, but she’d gotten used to the pain of his absence in her life. She was starting over, and her new life didn’t include him. She’d come to terms with that.

“I never thought about reaching out to you because I thought the decision of ‘us’ had been made in the motel room. We were a mistake that never should have happened…”

Bucky’s features softened and Irina had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

“You were never mine.”

_‘We’re never going to speak of what happened here again…’_

“I was in denial, Irina. That doesn’t excuse what I said, or what I put you through…it’s just…what it was…”

_‘I’m in love with Natasha, I want her…’_

Irina nodded quickly, roughly rubbing the tears from her eyes and turning back to the house. She was ready to get back to the boys, maybe get dinner started…

“Irina?”

She reluctantly looked back to him.

“Baby, I am yours. Always have been. I know…us…it should be ‘strange’ but…Irina, it doesn’t feel that way. That…wasn’t an easy thing to come to terms with…”

She wanted to hug him, wanted to kiss him until her lungs screamed at her to breathe. She wanted to drag him into her bedroom and make up for lost time, to love him until her body was spent and sore…

“Baby?”

She took a deep breath, sniffling.

“I’m…I’m going to start prepping for dinner,” she gestured to the path back to the house, “you wanna come?”

Bucky didn’t seem overly frustrated by her evasion, but it still stung a bit when he shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll hang out down here a bit longer, if that’s okay.”

Irina gave a forced smile and nodded.

She walked back up the path alone, forcing herself not to look back as she went.

* * *

Bucky wandered back to the house about an hour after Irina. She’d left the yard gate open for him and the back door was closed but unlocked.

He kicked off his shoes before stepping inside, not wanting to track in a bunch of sand from the beach. After sitting on the wharf, he’d walked the shoreline for a while to clear his head. Irina didn’t need him bringing the beach in with him.

The house was quiet.

He noticed some dirty dishes by the sink, but Irina and the boys were nowhere to be found.

The same worry he felt earlier at the mall returned with a vengeance.

Immediately he wondered if it was possible that he’d been so zoned out he’d not heard her car drive off.

_No. No way._

He hurried to the front of the house and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her SUV parked out front, exactly where they’d left it.

_She said she liked the chase…_

The two leashes hanging at the front door told him the boys hadn’t left, which meant Irina couldn’t have gone far.

_Where the fuck…_

Confused, Bucky turned around to scan the room and caught sight of a lump of blankets stirring on the couch.

_Ah._

Stepping carefully, he rounded the couch and saw Irina’s peaceful face poking out from the mound of blankets, fast asleep.

Despite the lingering stress of trying to decipher their earlier conversation, Bucky smiled. He had no idea how she managed to be comfortable under so many blankets. It was hot and humid, but if it was bothering her she was too deep asleep to really notice.

_Stress must have her beat…_

He didn’t want to wake her, but he wanted to be nearby in case she stirred. He eyed the bookshelves that dominated the wall Irina’s couch faced. The fireplace was a few months out from seeing real use, and he wasn’t about to risk turning the television on and waking Irina, so he went to the shelves.

Irina had filled the shelves with a variety of novels, some well-worn and others appearing brand new. Unsurprisingly, he only recognized a couple of authors. Staples like Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, and Jane Austen; whose novels he’d seen in passing in his youth but had been too busy then to actually open.

Curious, he pulled out every other book to read the back. Irina seemed to have a little bit of everything. Horror and historical fiction, poetry and biographies.

He was reading the back of a novel by Margaret Atwood, when he heard Irina stir behind him.

Bucky hoped she’d roll over and go back to sleep. She clearly needed it. He kept his back turned to her, his nose in the book, and held his breath. But the rustling of blankets falling to the floor was followed by a sleepy murmur.

“B-Bucky?”

_Damnit._

“Hey, baby,” he glanced at her over his shoulder, offering her a friendly smile before turning back to the book, “don’t mind me. Sleep; I can occupy myself.”

She didn’t say anything, but the shuffling of blankets and the soft tapping of her bare feet on the hardwood told him enough.

He felt her nearing him and sighed in relief when she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder blade as she hugged him.

“Hey there.”

He lightly touched her arm. It was meant to be a fond gesture, but when he felt her tense against him he realized she thought he was going to pry her arms from around him.

_Oh, sweetheart…_

Eager to soothe her, he rubbed up and down her forearm until she relaxed before running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“Margaret Atwood any good?”

Irina nodded against his back.

“Very. She’s Canadian, been writing since 1961.”

“Think I could borrow this, then?”

Irina peeked out to glimpse the book he held and shook her head.

“That’s the sequel to one of her earlier novels,” she explained, “read that one first, then this.”

She stepped out from behind him to peruse her shelves, plucking a paperback novel from the shelf close to where he’d pulled the one he currently held.

He traded her, turning the paperback over to eye the back.

“’The Handmaid’s Tale’,” he read, “thank you.”

Irina nodded.

“It’s dark but…well, hopefully you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

His smile deflated as he looked up from the book and caught the furrow in her brow and the pout on her lips.

“Irina?”

He saw her chin quiver and he only just managed to set the book aside when she was hugging him again.

“Hey…come on, look at me…”

She buried her face in his chest, and as soon as his hands touched her back she choked on a sob.

“Woah, Irina, sweetheart…”

Her sobs intensified and, realizing the moment wasn’t one for talking, he settled on rubbing her back.

_Fuck…_

Had it been their conversation down at the wharf? Or had he done something else earlier and it was just boiling over now?

At a bit of a loss, Bucky kept his metal hand on her back, letting his flesh hand wander upward. Tension he didn’t realize he was carrying left him when she relaxed as his fingers raked through her hair.

_Maybe it’s a bit of everything…_

Afterall, he’d come out of nowhere to stampede into the peaceful life she’d created for herself. Maybe it was too much, too soon? Yes, it had been two years, but maybe Irina needed more time?

Maybe he should have swallowed his pride and let her come to him?

He knew to choose his words carefully.

“Irina –

“’m sorry,” she stammered into his chest, “s-sorry for upsetting you out on the wharf. I…I really want to believe you it’s just…”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s a lot…”

“I would have reached out to you! I know I would have!”

She’d grabbed the fabric of his shirt in fistfuls at his sides. Her forehead was pressed to his chest, and he could feel where her tears had soaked through his shirt. She’d calmed down a bit, but her shoulders were still shaking.

It was agony seeing her so upset.

“Hey…hey…”

He gently grasped her shoulders and tried to ease her back enough to see her catch a glimpse of her face, but she resisted.

“Irina…look at me.”

He brushed back her hair and grazed the tips of his fingers along her jaw, smirking as she shook her head.

“Why not?”

When she made no move to answer, he cupped her face in his hands and tried to have her look at him.

“Irina…”

“I’m a mess,” she lamented, resisting him still, “please, Bucky…”

“You’re my mess.”

She snorted.

“Lucky you…”

“I am lucky,” he kissed the top of her head, “Irina, look at me…”

Though she grumbled, she let him guide her face upward.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Her eyes were red and puffy, brimming with unshed tears. The apples of her cheeks were flushed, and tear streaked. She looked tired and exposed and he wanted so badly to make it all better, but he had no idea what to say.

It absolutely gutted him.

As he tried to figure out what to say, he caught how her pretty hazel eyes darted from his eyes to his lips.

His heart soared and he ran his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks to brush away her tears.

Bucky felt like he couldn’t breathe.

_Come on sweetheart…_

He wanted to kiss her breathless, to savor the plush warmth of her lips.

“Irina…”

Two years. Two long, miserable years without her, and he only had a single heated nights’ worth of kisses to draw from.

_Please kiss me, sweetheart…fuck, please…_

His heart shot up into his throat when her hands moved to his chest and she stood on the tips of her toes.

Bucky pressed his forehead to hers…

And Irina closed the distance, lightly pressing her lips to his.

_Oh, thank god…_

Her lips were softer than he remembered, but just as he tightened his hold on her and made to deepen their kiss, she pulled back.

Bucky licked his lips, dark eyes locking onto her own and catching, with immense relief, that she seemed similarly affected.

“Sweetheart…”

Irina bit her lip and quickly kissed him again, sucking in a sharp breath as her lips moved against his. Her movements were cautious, nervous; but Bucky kept himself in check. He reined in his want for her tongue, for her sweet mouth, and enjoyed the pace she set; relishing the warmth of her breath on his lips each time they parted and basking in the feel of her when she kissed him firmly enough to bump her nose against his.

This. This should have been their first kiss. Not the hurried, desperate ones he stole in the motel room, but these.

Sweet, a little nervous and unsure…

Perfect.

Irina broke their kiss but didn’t pull away from him. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips kiss swollen.

_My god she’s perfect…_

“I…um…better get dinner started,” Irina stammered, licking her lips as she stepped back from him, “m-meatloaf still okay?”

Bucky couldn’t find his voice.

_Meatloaf…yeah, right…dinner…_

He nodded quickly and steadied himself against the bookshelf as she headed into the kitchen.

* * *

Irina slammed her bedroom door shut and began shirking off her clothes, tossing them blindly in the general direction of the hamper. Dinner had gone well, despite the palpable tension between her and Bucky, and she was more than ready for the day to come to an end.

And that meant going to bed early.

_Oh, if Hydra could see me now…_

She wasn’t sure what was worse – that she’d broken down and cried over nothing, or that she’d thrown herself at him.

_Might actually be a tie…_

Irina shoved her bra in her dresser drawer and tugged out a nighty. The one that, thanks to Bucky, she’d learned was see-through had been balled up and tucked in the back. She grabbed a floral one that was too long to be comfortable in the summer heat, tossed it aside and kept digging.

_Fuck, I am a goddamn mess…_

Realizing her go-to’s were all in the hamper, Irina grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and the teal tee shirt she’d bought from a kiosk when she went to Peggy’s Cove. It was a hideous thing, which was why she’d bought it.

She tugged the teal monstrosity on, tied up the ribbon lace of her shorts, and worked the tangles from her hair with her fingers before tying it up in a messy bun.

She was about to crawl into bed when scratching at her bedroom door stopped her in her tracks.

Irina sighed.

“I’m comin’…”

She opened the door and was met by the big, dark brown eyes of the world’s most pathetic rottweiler.

“Can I help you?”

Sampson whined and sat down, his little nub of a tail rubbing against the floor as he wagged it.

“Sorry, I was just coming to get him.”

Irina looked up and saw Bucky standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom. He was wearing the pair of pyjama pants she’d leant him, as his new clothes were all in the wash, and nothing else.

_Sweet Jesus…does he ever stop flexing?_

“I take it the other traitor’s already with you?”

Bucky chuckled and his stupid, gorgeous smirk made her want to kiss him again.

“Yeah, I figured I’d take them off your hands for the night,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “should have asked, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Irina hugged herself, suddenly feeling very exposed, “it’ll be nice to have the bed to myself, actually.”

“They do take up a lot of real estate. I’m, uh, probably going to start that book tonight too.”

“Oh, yeah…um, I got through it pretty quickly so…yeah,” she prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her, “um…goodnight.”

Why?

Why did she want to kiss him again?

After _everything_ he’d put her through, it felt pathetic to concede so easily. Steve and Wanda had dropped him at her doorstep less than forty-eight hours ago…and she’d already caved and kissed him like all the pain he’d dealt her didn’t matter.

And all it did was reinforce the idea that all there was between them was sex and shared trauma.

But _fuck_ she really wanted to kiss him again…

She took a tentative step towards him.

_I’m so pathetic…_

And another.

_Is this all I’m capable of with him? Rolling over?_

She stopped in front of him and placed a shaky hand on his chest. His skin was warm against her palm.

_Rolling over…bending over…it’s all the same…_

“Irina?”

_Why does loving him come with these feelings?_

She tried to push it all aside.

_I do love him._

“Sweetheart?”

He’d placed his hand over hers on his chest. His metal fingers were at her chin, trying to coax her into looking at him.

_I really do love him…_

Irina smiled and looked up into the icy blue eyes she adored.

_He’s chosen me. He’s here because he’s chosen me…us._

“Goodnight.”

She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips.

“I hope you like the –

Bucky silenced her with a light kiss that quickly deepened.

It wasn’t like their first kiss at the motel, or the one she’d sprung on him earlier in the day. It was…slow. Deep. Commanding.

She felt warm and fuzzy, and when his metal hand went to her hip, she eagerly pressed herself up against him.

_He’s chosen me…_

Bucky broke their kiss with a hiss, his metal fingers balling up the thin fabric of her teal shirt into his fist as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I missed you,” he mumbled under his breath, “I missed your kisses…”

Irina bit her lip.

“Did you?”

Bucky nodded.

“Well…”

Irina was very, very tempted to push him back into his room and curl up in bed with him. If he missed her kisses, she couldn’t help but wonder what else he missed…

But Irina dug deep, found her last shred of self-control, and forced herself to hold strong.

“Then I’ll be sure to give you another first thing in the morning.”

She tapped her fingers against his chest and smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

Irina tried to head back to her room and laugh quietly when Bucky’s grip on her shirt held strong in an adorable attempt to keep her from leaving.

“Bucky…”

He sighed heavily and let go of her shirt.

“Fine…goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Irina lingered in the doorway to her bedroom, risking a lingering glance back at him.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

_He really needs to start wearing shirts…_

“I will…goodnight, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I thought this series was going to be four or five parts? Ha, good times...good times...
> 
> P.S. I'm thinking it'll be about 25-ish chapters to see this story through to the end...hope that's okay!


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